


There's A Thin Line Between Love And Hate

by verymetalbasterd



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 13:59:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verymetalbasterd/pseuds/verymetalbasterd
Summary: Vyvyan catches Rick in the bathroom.The wild adventures of the four housemates.





	1. Violence & Silence

**Author's Note:**

> A roleplay by me and my friend which I adapted into a fic

 

 

Vyvyan flops onto the couch between Neil and Mike, leaving no room for Rick.  
‘Haha!’ he thinks to himself, ‘that sissy will have to sit on the rickety chair again!’

“What’s on the telly, Mike?” Vyvyan asks.  
Mike continues to channelsurf momentarily before replying, “Same old boring bollocks, Vyv.”  
Vyvyan huffs and crosses his arms, “Barely anything good on the telly these days.”  
He can hear Rick’s loud footsteps coming from upstairs. He wonders why he’s spending so long in the bathroom.

In the bathroom, Rick seems to have gotten himself into a bit of a kerfuffle. He curses under his breath as he struggles in the bathroom upstairs and falls into the bathtub, thrashing his legs around trying to shift his trousers, which have inexplicably become stuck around his knees.

Hearing the amount of noise Rick is making, Vyvyan’s curiosity grows. He excuses himself from the current environment and walks up the stairs, careful of his usually heavy footsteps. The floorboards lightly creak as he tiptoes along the landing before pressing his ear to the bathroom door, listening.

Rick continues to struggle in the bathtub, curses growing in volume when he knocks the tap with his shin, cold water spewing from the faucet. "Ruddy hell!" He shouts when the water hits him, letting out a high pitched shriek that can surely be heard from anywhere in the house.

Vyvyan, now very intrigued, steps away from the door, balances his centre of gravity, lifts his foot and slams it against the door, his heavy boots causing the door to splinter and crack directly in half, the hinged half swings on its hinges while the other slams to the ground.  
Rick jumps in shock as Vyvyan enters, seeing the chaos that has unfurled. He sees Rick flailing in the bathtub, his jeans around his knees, one hand grasping for the tap to turn it off, and the other hand buried in his underwear.

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?” Vyvyan shouts, waving his arms, “WE AGREED TO KEEP THESE ACTIVITIES _OUT_ OF THE BATHROOM!” He stomps closer to Rick, the poet’s face filled with a mixture of panic and confusion.

The tap seemingly forgotten, Rick wriggles away from Vyvyan to the opposite side of the tub, as far away as he can get. Wide-eyed and flushed, he splutters for a moment as if he’s thinking of something to say.

“W-what are you doing, Vyvyan?! Can’t you see I’m quite busy at the moment?” He says, pulling his hand out of his underwear.  
Vyvyan rolls his eyes and reaches over to the tap which is still running and turns it off, “YES, RICK.” He say in his usually loud voice, “I CAN VERY WELL _SEE_ YOU’RE BUSY AT THE MOMENT, PLOPPY PANTS!” He props the fallen half of the door against the wall and starts walking toward the exit, where only half a door is left, “YOU BETTER NOT COME TO SUPPER WITH YOUR SOGGY TROUSERS ON, RICK.”

Meanwhile, downstairs, a group of loud football fans leave the house, forgetting the close the front door. Neil had already started supper, the lentils had soaked overnight.  
Mike is still channelsurfing, waiting for Bastard Squad to come on. He complains about the draught.

Back upstairs, Rick huffs in annoyance at a perfectly good wank ruined and tries to stand up to leave. After falling over and slipping a grand total of 11 times he finally manages to escape and stumbles to his room to change his trousers. Upon entering his room, he realises he has no trousers to change into, really. So he puts on his favourite robe instead and goes downstairs in that.

Mike, Vyvyan, and Neil are all sat around the table for supper, a huge pot of lentil casserole placed in the center of the dining table. Vyvyan is scooping some from the pot with a rusty ladle when he sees Rick enter the room and he immediately bursts into hysterics. He points the ladle at Rick and tells him he looks utterly daft.  
Mike looks over and chuckles at Rick, “Cat on ya tail, Rick? Caught two skumpers in your jankies? Thought so.”  
Vyvyan is still laughing at him.  
“Are you having lentils, Rick?” Neil asks him.

Rick ignores Neil and yells at Vyvyan across the table instead, “SHUT UP VYVYAN, YOU _FASCIST,_ I HATE YOU!” He takes a seat, grabbing the ladle from Vyvyan. He takes some casserole from the pot. He's about to set it down on the table when he glances up at Vyvyan again and gets an idea. Grinning, he dips the ladle in the casserole pot again and flings a heap of it right at Vyvyan, lentils landing on his stomach and dribbling slowly onto his jeans.

Vyvyan barely has a reaction at first.  
“You can’t waste the food, Rick!” Neil complains, “That stuff costs money, man!”  
Vyvyan takes a deep breath, glaring right into Rick’s eyes and giving him a hard look.

Rick stares right back into Vyvyan’s intense glare with his eyebrows raised, as if daring him to do something. Not blinking, he places the ladle back into the pot, picking up his own spoon and raising it to his mouth, taking a mouthful of the soggy meal.  
Vyvyan slowly stands, ripping his gaze from Rick’s and grabbing the nearest object, which happens to be the entire pot of lentils.  
Holding onto one of the handles on the side of the pot, he swiftly lifts it to the air and slams it down onto Rick’s head, sending him to the ground, covered in lentils.

“Oh Vyvyan!” Neil whines. He doesn’t care. He leaves and stomps up the stairs to his bedroom.  
Rick lays on the floor for a moment longer, then slowly staggers to his feet. He sits down at the table again and resumes his supper, this time eating with more anger. He shakes his fist in the general direction of Neil, “This is all  _Thatcher's_ fault you know!”

“Alright, Rick, don’t go biting your arm off!” Mike says, waving his hand about as he spoke.  
“I can’t believe Vyvyan just wasted this week’s food supply! Mike you really need to get him to, like, calm down!” Neil has now begun scooping the fallen lentils back into the pot with his hands.  
Mike sits up, pointing at Neil, “You callin’ me a scrapper, mate? I’m not in control of Vyvyan, he has his own railings.”

“Well, Mike,” Rick speaks up, “You really should go and have a bloody word with him! I could have been seriously injured you know! And do you know how long it takes to get a ruddy doctor’s appointment?! Thatcher’s bloody Britain, that is!” He shakes his head, finishing off his lentils.

Neil has his pondering face on as he thinks about the possibility of lentil overdose, “Would there be a cure for it?” He says aloud.

Mike points his finger at Neil, “Speaking of cures!”

At this moment, popular 80s band The Cure appear where the sofa usually is and begin playing a number.

Meanwhile, in Vyvyan’s room...

“STUPID! STUPID, RICK! STUPID LENTILS. STUPID RICK AND HIS _GIRLY_ HAIR AND SPOTTY FACE, I HATE HIM!” He shouts, viciously pulling the plaster off his walls and stomping on the splintering floorboards.

Neil is trying to hear Vyvyan over the band’s music, which isn’t very difficult as Vyvyan is a very loud character. “I think he’s mad, Rick. Do you remember the last time he was mad? He spent weeks, like, tearing down the house and Mr. Balowski say we owed him £400!”

Rick looks up with a displeased expression at the plaster and dust raining down from the ceiling. Some of it lands in Neil’s food, but he continues to eat it anyway, crunching sounds can be heard and a grimace appears on Neil’s face.

Vyvyan decides he’s finished upstairs and stomps back downstairs, cricket bat in hand and The Cure gone.  
“RICHARD UGLY PRATT. I HOPE YOU’RE READY TO SEE INTO THE NEXT DIMENSION!” He readies himself in a swinging stance, aiming for Rick’s head, anger burning in his eyes.  
The lentils are still dribbling down his pants, slowly hardening into a crusty brown patch.

Rick shrieks and crawls under the table, loudly crashing into two chairs on his way down. He tries to escape, crawling along the floor, but isn’t paying much attention to his direction and ends up headbutting Vyvyan in the crotch.

“RICK, YOU BASTARD!” He shouts, his voice a notch or two higher than usual and buckling at the waist, letting out a yelp and grabbing his crotch in pain. The other hand, which is still poised in the air with the bat, slams down onto Rick’s lentil-covered head.

Rick lets out a loud scream as the bat hits him, rolling over onto his back and cradles his scalp in pain.  
Mike abruptly stands and leaves the room while Neil is ignoring the commotion and still scooping lentils into the pot, saving as many as he can.  
He timidly looks to Vyvyan, “Are you gonna, like, eat them, Vyvyan?” He asks, pointing to the lentils on his jeans.

“SOD OFF, NEIL.” Vyvyan retorts as he throws the cricket bat at the wall, sending it through to the other side.  
He gives a swift kick right into Rick’s ribs and hops over the back of the couch, turning on the TV and then taking a seat on the sofa.  
He hears Rick wheeze as the poet rolls around in self-pity for a while. After realising that no-one is paying attention to him, Rick huffs as he sits up and goes to investigate what’s on the TV.  
Perching gingerly on the sofa beside Vyvyan, he turns his attention to the screen.

Vyvyan turns the channel to Bastard Squad, “Thank god, it’s finally on!” He says, twisting in place and throwing his legs over Rick’s thighs, lounging back against the arm of the sofa.  
He might hate Rick, but he’s bloody comfy.

Rick jumps slightly as Vyvyan rests his legs on his own. Expecting violence of some sort. When none arrives, he relaxes a little.

Vyvyan chews on his thumbnail, he can’t seem to focus on his favourite show. He finds himself glancing at Rick, but when he does, the poet is already looking at him.  
Both of them look away hastily, ignoring that the eye contact ever happened.

Neil puts the floor-and-table flavoured lentils back on the stove for tomorrow’s meals. He announces that he’s going to have a bath, but nobody acknowledges this.  
Both Rick and Vyvyan barely look up from the TV as the hippie leaves the room, not having even registered what he had said.

The two sit in what could be considered a companionable silence for the rest of the show, the only sounds being various voices from the television, accompanied by shared laughter from the boys.

As the end credits start to roll, Rick seems to realise that he just enjoyed spending some time with Vyvyan. He steals a glance at Vyvyan to try and decipher some emotion from him.  
He finds it odd to see Vyvyan with such a relaxed expression, he looks almost content to be simple spending time alone with Rick.  
Vyvyan takes a moment to recollect his thoughts after his calm experience with Rick. He thinks about how they laughed together and how it made him feel.  
Maybe he was experiencing friendship? He’s never really had a friend before.

He doesn’t think friends kick each other’s teeth in and realises that he can’t be friends with Rick, there’s no way they could ever be civil.  
They hate each other!  
He lifts his leg up hard, his steel-toe-capped boot connecting with Rick’s jaw.

The poet recoils, "Vyvyan you utter _bastard!_ We were having a lovely time, and you had to go and spoil it with bloody physical violence!" Rick winces and rubs his jaw where Vyvyan kicked him, right on the bone. He can already sense the bruise he'll have there by the morning. "You've gone and ruined my handsome mug, you FASCIST!"

 Vyvyan smiles, taking pleasure in his pain. He definitely hates Rick. "YOU WERE BORING ME, YOU GIRL!" Does he feel bad for ruining their nice time?

'Bollocks to that,' the punk thinks. He'd rather eat his own knickers than ever spend time with Rick again!

Rick turns away before Vyvyan can give him any more bruises and stomps upstairs to bed moodily.

Vyvyan listens to Rick enter his room and stares at the telly a while longer before making his own way to bed.


	2. Poems & Destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The housemates and their shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two!  
> Big thanks to Kid, who reads all my stuff before I put it out <3

Rick was correct, when he woke up the next morning, he had a magnificent purpling bruise blooming on his jaw. He prodded it in front of the bathroom mirror for a while, wondering if it made him look tough and cool. He was going to tell those kids at the Anarchist’s Society he got in a fight with a fascist. Which he won, of course.

He was brought out of his train of thought by a loud banging on the bathroom door.

‘When had that been fixed?’ Rick thinks to himself.

“OI RICK,” He hears Vyvyan shout, “OPEN THIS BLOODY DOOR OR I’LL JUST PISS IN YOUR SHOES.” Vyvyan slams his fist on the bathroom door, bursting for a whizz.

Mike appears from his room, “Alright there, Vyv?” He asks, “Shimmy your hankies through the waterloo and you’ll be spiffy in a jiffy, lad!” Mike beelines for the stairs after his copiously helpful advice.

“Thanks, Mike!” Vyvyan shouts after him, still banging on the door.

Rick sighs and takes one last look at his reflection before reaching over to the door handle, making sure to stand out of the way, just in case Vyvyan planned to run in right as soon as he opened it.

Rick was right, Vyvyan entered boot-first into the room. Missing Rick completely, he redeemed himself by elbowing him right in the gut on his way past.

“Finished wanking, have you?” He chortles, remembering how he found Rick in the bath yesterday.

Rick doubles over as he get hit, cringing as he, too, remembers the embarrassing situation Vyvyan found him in. Nonetheless, he exits the room with as much dignity as he can muster, sticking his fingers up at Vyvyan as he leaves, knowing that if Vyvyan had actually seen him do so, it would have earned him another blow to the stomach.

He slams the door upon exit, as hard as he can and waltzed downstairs and flops into a chair at the dining table, coughing slightly to alert Neil and Mike of his presence, as they don’t seem to have noticed his arrival.

Back upstairs, Vyvyan pisses and re-spikes his hair, flattened from sleeping on it, picking at some spots before leaving the bathroom.

Mike blanks Rick completely. Neil, however, perks up and asks, “What do you want for breakfast, Rick?”

Rick sits up a little with pride at being noticed, before thinking about Neil’s question. “I think I’ll just have tea for now, Neil. I can’t have anything too heavy at this time of morning; gives me terrible stomach aches, you know. And I’m injured because someone elbowed me very hard!”

Just then, Vyvyan arrives in the kitchen, seemingly summoned by Rick’s mention of him.

“YOU DESERVED IT, YOU BABY.” Vyvyan remarks, rather loudly, before seating himself besides Mike as Neil pours Rick a mug of tea from the pot.

“That’s heavy, man. You guys should really stop fighting, you know. It’s not good for the like, atmosphere of community in the household. We have to maintain peace and stick together, man!” Neil preaches.

Vyvyan responds almost instantly as he pours tea from the pot into the nearest container; a bowl. “THERE’S ABSOLUTELY NO BLOODY WAY I’M GOING TO EVEN ATTEMPT TO BE CIVILISED WITH THAT SPOTTY BUM-RAG!” He dumps two handfuls of sugar into his bowl, before stirring with a butterknife.

"Yeah, shut up Neil!" Rick automatically gloats before realising what Vyvyan said about him. He sniffs pompously at Vyvyan over his bowl of tea. "Perhaps that's because you can't be civilised, Vyvyan. Some of us just aren't capable of real intellectual conversation, I bet you wouldn't last five minutes in my poetry club." He snorts and sips his tea.

Vyvyan pulls a face at Rick. "OH YEAH!? HOW'S THIS FOR CIVILISED?" Vyvyan realises what he said makes no connection to what he’s about to do, yet he continues.  
He reaches forward and flicks Rick right on his deep purple bruise on his jaw. Rick flinches at Vyvyan's attack, expected as it is. "Thank you for proving my point Vyvyan."   
The punk laughs and takes a gulp of his tea.

Neil sighs and asks Mike to do something about the fighting boys. Mike puts down his newspaper and looks at the two for a moment before speaking, “Now, kids, we don’t want an incident like last time. We had to get Billy Balowski involved, remember?”

Rick simpers at him, wincing when the expression stretches the tender flesh of his bruise. He reaches down and picks up his own tea, taking another sip before setting it down again and adding more sugar.

Vyvyan laughs at Rick and finishes his tea quickly. "What time is it Mike?" he asks.  
Mike pulls up his sleeve to reveal several watches, and shows them to Vyvyan, pointing at a particular one lower down on his arm, "Now, Vyv. The big hand is on.."   
"Eight."   
"That's right, now the little hand is _nearly_  o-"   
"ON THE TWELVE!" He yells, getting excited.   
"Yes, that's good! Now if the little hand is nearly on the twelve, and the big hand is on the eight, what time is it?"   
Vyvyan thinks for a moment, he does his best to figure it out.   
“IT’S HALF PAST NINE!"

Rick is about to make a snide comment at Vyvyan when he remembers that he, too, cannot tell the time. He shuts his mouth with a sulk and continues to sip at his tea moodily.

When he's finished, he stands up abruptly and goes to begin his day. He stops and realises he has no idea what to do today. He sinks back into his chair and looks around at his flatmates.  
"Well? What are you all doing today?" He asks, picking at the peeling paint on the table.

Vyvyan is corrected by Mike, being told it’s 11:40am and waits for anyone to reply to Rick.  
"Tell you what, bunker, I’ve a six pack of hoola in the skip, I'll be tending to the grain." Mike says, not making much sense.   
Neil shrugs and mentions something about lentils and vegetable rights.   
“I’ve got a lecture at one, so I’ll be going to that!” Vyvyan remarks, loud as ever.

The rest of the flatmates all look to the punk in unison, confused about his statement. Rick raises his eyebrows in shock at Vyvyan's words. "What's the occasion, Vyvyan, you haven't gone into college for at least a month now. I don’t suppose you’re turning into a snobby teacher’s pet, are you?” He sniggers.

"Well, Rick." He points at the Anarchist. "There’s an essay on corpse embalming coming up, and today they’re doing a demonstration! So, I get to see a dead body!" He laughs and leans back in his chair.  
"Gross, man. I don't ever wanna see a dead body." Neil pipes up. "Their soul has, like, moved on..it’s weird, man. Heavy."   
Vyvyan scrunches his nose up at Neil, "CORPSES ARE BRILLIANT, NEIL."

"I'd imagine corpses are highly unhygienic, actually, Vyvyan. Not that you'd care, I suppose, they're probably the only people that can stand being around you, ha!" Rick triumphantly shouts. He seems quite pleased at himself for coming up with that excellent joke.  
He repeats his "HA!" when no one at the table congratulates his amazing sense of comedy. Why, he could see himself being a comedian one day.

Vyvyan smirks at Rick. "WELL AT LEAST I ACTUALLY HAVE FRIENDS, YOU LONER. DEAD OR NOT, THEY'RE PEOPLE, AND FRIENDS."  
Mike nods, "Yeah, Rick, the only thing you'll find to hang out with is your poem book." He laughs.   
Vyvyan's eyebrows raise in shock, It's rare Mike makes sense, but when he does, it's always something witty and incredibly funny.   
"YEAH, YOU BASTARD, NOT EVEN A GNAT WOULD BE YOUR FRIEND!" Vyvyan remarks, nodding at Rick.

Rick makes a face at Vyvyan for being silly enough to suggest something like this. "Aren't you forgetting the various clubs and societies I attend, Vyvyan? Just because you're not at the right level to have met any of my many intellectual friends and associates, doesn't mean you can be so absurd as to assume I don't have any!" He nods, pleased. "There are many cool kids at the anarchist society who, quite frankly, look up to me as an anarchist icon! And as for my poetry club, I think we can all imagine how well I am received there. Ah, the people, my people, they beg for new material every time I attend, for I am the People's Poet, leader of the revolution!”

Vyvyan decides to straight up ignore him. He doesn't care. He stopped listening to Rick well before he finished his little speech.  
He starts picking at the splintering wood of the table for there’s nothing better to do.

Neil replies, "But Rick, your poems are terrible, man. How do these poetry folk like, put up with your awful rhyming?"

Rick rolls his eyes. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, Neil, we can't all have the gift of recognising true art when we see it!" He smiles at that, imagining a future where he is leading the anarchist revolution, shattering ideologies with his gift with words, with lots of hot women being hopelessly in love with him, of course.

Neil just nods at Rick, not understanding. While Rick was making a funny face into the distance, probably daydreaming, Vyvyan had picked up the bowl he drank the tea from, stood up, and smashed it over Rick's head. And Rick is rudely interrupted from his daydream just as he is destroying Thatcher with a particularly good limerick.

"WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO BORING, BOGEY BUM!?" Vyvyan shouts, pointing at the poet angrily.

Rick yelps as pieces of bowl rain down around him. He stands up to yell at his attacker, brushing pieces of crockery off his shoulders, "I DON'T KNOW VYVYAN, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO ANGRY ALL THE TIME?! WOULD IT KILL YOU TO BE NICE JUST FOR ONCE?"

"NO, IT WOULDN'T, ACTUALLY. BUT IT JUST SO HAPPENS THAT YOU’RE A COMPLETE BASTARD, AND THAT’S WHY I’M NOT NICE TO YOU, RICK." Vyvyan reaches for another bowl to smash over Rick's head and Rick desperately tries to protect his head by covering it with his arms.  
"Hold up Vyv!" Mike stops him. "We hardly have any china left after Rick smashed all those saucers!"

Rick moves briefly from his position of protection from bowls to look at Mike with confusion. He then looks at Vyvyan, and his expression turns to one of fear. "Y-yeah Vyvyan, listen to Mike, he's a sensible fellow." If anything, Rick might have thought that Mike cared about him for a second before realising that Mike probably just wants Vyvyan to stop destroying all their china.

"Alright then!" Vyvyan steps away and starts walks toward the back door, opening it, and leaving to go into the garden.  
Neil questions his motives, asking what he’s doing, but Vyvyan ignores him.

Rick turns to watch Vyvyan leave with curiosity. He's half tempted to go and see whatever it is Vyvyan's up to, but decides against it. He has enough injuries for now.  
He instead walks to the shelf to retrieve his book of poetry and sits on the sofa, planning to write a couple more haikus for his next poetry club meeting.

Vyvyan returns shortly after, shovel in hand.  
Neil asks why he has the shovel, but Vyvyan ignores him again.   
He stands shovel-length away from Rick, who is quite focused on his girly book. Vyvyan raises the shovel above his head and brings it down onto Rick's already injured skull with a loud THUNK.

Rick, who was deep in thought over his latest creation, startles at the heavy impact delivered to his skull. He howls in agony and falls onto his side on the sofa, dropping both his poetry book and his lucky pen to the ground with a clatter.

"OH SHUT UP, YOU GIRL!" He drops the shovel on the floor, making a clang as it did, and hops over the back of the sofa and sits in the small gap between Rick and the arm of the couch, he throws Rick's pen at the TV and it hits the 'On' button. He watches whatever is on, which is _Not The 9 o'clock News._

Rick writhes around in pain weakly for a few seconds before realising it is probably only irritating Vyvyan further. Not wanting to be punched, he gingerly sits up, wincing and rubbing his sore head.   
He sighs and collects his book and pen from the ground, determined to finish his haiku about seizing the means of production. He unknowingly leans against Vyvyan slightly as he jots down some ideas for possible phrases to use.

Vyvyan feels Rick's arm brush against his own, and then feels Rick lean on him ever-so-slightly. He sighs and just tries to focus on the telly.  
Not long after, he leans over Rick slightly to see what he’s writing.   
He can’t really make it out, he’s not wearing his glasses so it was kind of pointless anyway.

Rick senses Vyvyan looking over his shoulder at his writing and smiles slightly. He feels happy, and also quite proud that despite Vyvyan's constant mocking of his poetry, he is actually interested in what he has written.  
He then realises that since Vyvyan isn't wearing his glasses, he probably can't see a thing he's written. "Vyvyan?" he asks carefully. "Would you like to hear what I've got so far? I'm going to do a haiku about seizing the means of production."

Vyvyan almost jumps at hearing his own name, unsure if he was caught being totally uninterested in Rick's poetry. He notices Rick being cautious with his voice and tries to take no notice.  
"Alright, then. Let’s see what bollocks you’ve got going on in there." He grins and crosses his arms, turning his chin up at Rick.

Rick smiles at Vyvyan's interest in his poem. He lists all the points he has neatly bullet pointed down and explains the meaning and symbolism behind each one. When he is finished, he smiles up at Vyvyan and waits for his opinion.

Vyvyan thinks Rick has some interesting things down, even though his poems are utter bollocks, he knows Rick can actually be quite intelligent.  
Vyvyan is half-smiling until Rick looks up, he puts on his best 'I hate Rick' face, and shouts, "THAT WAS BLOODY AWFUL, RICK HAHAHAA!" He shoves the V in Rick’s face, proud of himself.

Rick almost thinks he sees Vyvyan smiling when he looks up, but assumes he imagined it when Vyvyan tells him his ideas are awful. He frowns, he not upset, Vyvyan's never nice to him, but he is annoyed. "You clearly don't know art when you see it, Vyvyan." He sighs,

Vyvyan, surprisingly lightly, kicks Rick in the shin, he doesn’t know if it was supposed to be friendly or not, but he stops thinking about it. "Actually, Rick, post-mortem makeup artistry is an art. I can do that!" He smiles snarkily at Rick, crossing his legs on the sofa like a pre-schooler.

Rick doesn't even notice Vyvyan has kicked him, he barely felt it compared to the injuries he normally receives. He is slightly confused at what Vyvyan says next. "I didn't know you did makeup on corpses, Vyvyan. Bit girly, isn't it?" He teases, grinning.

Vyvyan scrunches up his face in confusion, "No, Rick.. We have to make the corpse make it look like it’s not dead if it’s an open casket funeral. It’s only girly if you're wearing the makeup," He twists around on the sofa to face Mike, who’s still sat at the dinner table, "RIGHT MIKE?"  
Mike doesn’t look away from the newspaper he’s reading and just gives Vyvyan and thumbs up.   
He turns back to Rick and lightly pushes him, "See!"

"Well, I guess I can't argue with Mike's agreement." Rick says sarcastically. He leans his shoulder back against Vyvyan's and wonders if he _is_ any good at post mortem makeup. It occurs to him that he's never seen Vyvyan do anything other than destroy things.

Vyvyan shuffles away from Rick slightly, unhappy with the amount of physical contact happening, but lets Rick lightly rest his arm on him.

  
_Not The Nine O'clock News_ ended and _Nozin' Aroun'_ comes on.   
"Hey Rick, you like this show, right?" He says, nudging Rick slightly with his elbow.   
By this time, Mike and Neil had joined them, Mike sitting on the other side of Rick, and Neil on the rickety chair.

Rick looked up at Vyvyan with a confused expression. "Vyvyan, I absolutely hate this show! It's not at all representative of the current youth demographic!"  He continues to chatter on about the various flaws of ' _Nozin’ Aroun’_ ', gesturing wildly. He just misses hitting Vyvyan in the face quite a few times.

"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, SHUT YOUR TRAP, RICK." Vyvyan says, flailing his own arms, trying to catch Rick's to stop him from continuing to waft the air randomly.  
"IF YOU HATE IT SO MUCH, TURN IT OVER!" Vyvyan knows that if he gets up, Neil will try and teal Rick's seat, and Rick will be over-dramatic about it, but honestly, he’s getting bored and needs something to happen.

Rick sighs, he doesn't want to watch the show any longer, but he also doesn't want to move. He's quite comfortable leaning against Vyvyan, and he knows if he stands up to change the channel Neil will take his place on the sofa.  
He groans and moves to change the channel, choosing to roll off the sofa onto the ground.

Sure enough, when he turns around again Neil is sitting in what was his spot.   
Not wanting to sit on the rickety chair, he instead perches on the arm of the sofa, closest to Vyvyan.

Vyvyan, confused, pushes Rick off the arm of the sofa. "THERE’S A PERFECTLY GOOD SEAT NEXT TO MIKE, RICK." Rick had been Too Close and he felt Odd about it. "YOU STINK, GO SIT ON THE RICKETY CHAIR."

Rick rolls his eyes and goes to sit down on the chair he swears is older than all of them combined. It creaks ominously as he tries to get comfortable. He looks at the TV, he can't tell what is on but it seems to involve some loud music and bright lights.

"Vyvyan, you're going to be late for your lecture!" Neil says, pointing to the watch on Vyvyan's wrist which displayed 12:30pm  
"BOLLOCKS!!" He shouts, jumping up from the sofa and bolting out the front door, the entire porch door falling off its hinges.   
"Faster than two crackers on a plane, that one." Mike pipes up.

Rick hears the loud crash from the porch and sighs. He stands up, which makes the chair creak loudly again. He sticks his fingers up at it then moves to the space Vyvyan left unoccupied on the sofa.

Vyvyan is running to college, hoping to get there before they start the demonstration.  
"Don't you think Vyvyan has like, been acting a little strange lately?" Neil asks to the both of them.

Rick scrunches his face in confusion "He seems just as much a bastard as he usually does, Neil!" Rick exclaims. "Why do you ask, anyway?" Giving the hippie a confused look, he crosses one leg over the other and plays with one of his pigtails.

"Well... He doesn't shout as much, well to you, anyway. He breaks stuff less even though he still breaks everything." Neil shuffles in place and slouches a bit more on the couch. "I just think he's acting just a little bit different, that's all." he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

Rick frowns. "Well I guess when you put it like that, you could say he's acting differently? I wonder why that is? What do you think Mike?" He asks.

Mike hums, thinking. "Haven't a clue. Y'see he jabbered to Mike, The Cool Person, _that's me by the way_  ,about something he was fretting about, and I told him to hold up, go back, reverse, see previous, and he said to me that it didn't matter. Maybe it’s about that?"

Rick is, of course, immediately intrigued about something Vyvyan was so concerned about that he had spoken to Mike about it. He knew they were close, but he didn't know Vyvyan trusted him enough to talk about his feelings with him. He felt an odd lurch in his stomach at that thought, but ignored it to say, "OOOooh, I wonder what it is? Surely it takes a lot to worry Vyvyan of all people?"

"Ain’t got an inkling, Rick." Mike replied. "He started spouting offal about feelings and such, but he was talking far too quickly for me to even grasp anything from the boy!"  
Neil shrugs and ponders for a moment. "Do you think he's got a lady on the go, guys? Maybe he's like, got feelings for a woman!”

Rick gasps, and the odd feeling in his stomach seems to move up to his chest. He wonders if he's getting ill.   
"Well, who do you suppose this hopelessly unlucky woman is?"

"I don’t know, he hasn't mentioned a bird to me!" Mike shrugs and mumbles something under his breath about being the only one who gets any and that nobody else ever had, like some sort of superiority complex.  
"Guys, maybe we should just leave it, yeah? If he wants to talk about it, he will. We shouldn’t force him, it’s a bit heavy, that." Neil says, picking the dirt from under his fingernails.

"Oh, alright Neil, you spoilsport." Rick sighs and flops back onto the sofa. He looks around the room, wondering what to do now. He decides he may as well try and finish his poem, so he looks around for his book. He can't see it on the floor anywhere so bends down, to check under the sofa. He spots it and has to kneel on the ground to retrieve it. He can't see his lucky pen anywhere though.

Both Neil and Mike are ignoring what Rick's doing, mostly because they don’t care. Mike asks Neil whats for lunch, and he shrugs, saying if he had some money he could go and get bread and make sandwiches for them all.

Rick gives up his search and slumps back onto the sofa. He half listens to Neil and Mike prattle on about lunch, not really focusing on what is being said.  
He leans his head back and looks up at the cracked and dusty ceiling. Rick wonders why he cares so much about whether Vyvyan has a girlfriend. He's probably just jealous, he decides.

After all, it's been quite a while since he even spoke to a lady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!  
> Stay tuned for chapter 3 and please leave any feedback you have!


	3. Crumbled Walls & Tuned Guitars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vyvyan comes back from his lecture explosively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue from the show is used in this chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

 

 

After about an hour, Neil perks his head up. "Can you guys hear that?" He says, looking around the room. 

Rick moves his head from where it was resting for a long while. His neck clicks more times than seems humanly possible and he winces. “Yeah, what on _Earth_ could make so much noise?” Rick asks, listening intently to try and figure out the source of the noise.

"It’s sort of a...rhythmic thumping?" Neil explains.

Mike furrows his brow, "Maybe it’s one of the football fans from earlier?

The sound gets louder, as if it's getting closer.   
"It's coming from over there, I think." Neil points to the wall where the phone is. "Sounds a bit like someone....running?"

As soon as the last word exited Neil's mouth, the wall explodes, huge chunks of brick and plaster flying everywhere, dust falling from the ceiling and the whole house groaning, as if the foundation were about to give in.   
Smoke erupts from the source of the explosion, the three housemates unable to see anything for a few moments.

"BLIMEY, THAT WAS BLOODY BRILLIANT!" A voice calls from within the smoke.

Rick coughs at the mixture of smoke and dust in the air from the explosion. He squints, trying to see what exactly Vyvyan was attempting to do this time, if anything at all. His eyes sting from the dust and start to water.

Vyvyan walks up to the couch where the three are sat, holding something in his hand. Its long and looks like a bundle of bandages with blood on them. 

Neil and Mike are relatively speechless. It’s been a while since Vyvyan had pulled off a stunt like this.

"I’VE GOT A LEG!" Vyvyan says, louder than usual. He grins and sits on the arm of the chair closest to Neil.

"Hey Vyvyan, that's not unusual." Mike says, pointing at Vyvyan’s legs.

"NO LOOK, I’M SUPPOSED TO WRITE AN ESSAY ON IT, RIGHT, BUT.... I THINK I'M JUST GONNA STICK IT ON THE BONNET OF MY CAR." He holds up the bandaged leg proudly.

Rick wrinkles up his nose at the severed leg Vyvyan is waving around. He wonders if Vyvyan paid any attention at all to his lecture, he guesses not. He briefly tries to remember when the rest of them ever went to a lecture, and finds that he can't.

Rick also takes note that this is the loudest Vyvyan has been in weeks.

Mike stands up suddenly and puts his hands on his hips. 

Pointing at Vyvyan, he says, "Okay, Vyv, okay, hang on just a mo’. Now, the scotch eggs are another story." He points at the crumbled wall, "That's a nice angle on the wall, straight through it, I like your style. Certainly had me fooled. That's only part of the puzzle." He waves his hands around his head in confusion.

Rick and Neil watch Mike intently, this being the most Mike has ever spoken, probably.

"Most days you come through the door.” The short housemate continues, “Sometimes you even open it! Today you didn't, today you suddenly change your routine, why? Eh? You in trouble, Vyv? You the final sausage in the fridge? Is someone comin' after you with a piece of clingfilm?" He leans against the shelving to the side.

Vyvyan has a befuddled expression upon his face. He looks at the wall, then at the Leg, and then at Mike. "No, Michael." He says, standing up. "A friend gave me some caffeine tablets! I FEEL _GREAT_ , MICHAEL! I COULD SMASH ANYTHING RIGHT NOW."

Rick raises his eyebrows at Vyvyan. "Are you sure they didn't have anything else in them, Vyvyan? You seem even more violent than usual, and that's bloody saying something!"    
Rick brushes plaster dust off his shirt, causing him to sneeze again

"NAH, RICK. I’VE JUST HAD HALF THE BOTTLE!" He runs into the kitchen and picks up the shovel from when he hit Rick with it, and runs back into the living room. "I FEEL LIKE MYSELF AGAIN, THIS IS GREAT!" He swings the shovel and whacks Neil over the head with it, who has been quiet this whole time. Neil keels over and lands on the floor. Rick and Mike barely glance at Neil as he falls to the floor. "ISN’T THIS GREAT, RICK?!" Vyvyan smiles and gives Rick a thumbs up.

Rick’s face scrunches in confusion, befuddled as to why Vyvyan is.....being nice to him? He feels like it would usually have been him that was hit with a shovel. 

He isn't going to question it though, Vyvyan would probably stop just to annoy him.   
"Sure, Vyvyan, you're in a bloody fantastic mood as usual." Rick smiles at Vyvyan despite the fact that he's trying to be sarcastic.

"BRILLIANT!" Vyvyan is still smiling. He's full of caffeine and alcohol and on a high after his lecture.

Who knows what happened during the lesson.

"DID YOU KNOW THAT JULIE GATEFEL AND HAYLEY HARTLET ARE LESBIANS?" Vyvyan asks, to seemingly nobody. He takes and seat and looks like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin. "I'M HAPPY FOR THEM, Y’KNOW. REALLY, I AM! JULIE GAVE ME THE CAFFEINE PILLS." 

Mike almost asks Vyvyan if he could have Julie and Hayley’s numbers when Vyvyan drops the shovel and clasps his hands together. 

“WHAT’S FOR TEA?" He yells.

"Probably lentils, I assume?" Rick looks down at Neil, who doesn't confirm his assumption, but Rick can guess. They've almost exclusively had lentils for tea for the entire time they've lived together.

"Why did Julie give you caffeine pills, Vyvyan? I hardly believe you'd fall asleep during the demonstration?" Rick questions.

Vyvyan almost ignores Rick, but after a few seconds, he replies, "BECAUSE I HAD TOLD HAYLEY I WASN’T REALLY FEELING MYSELF RECENTLY. SHE AGREED AND SAID I HAD BEEN PRETTY LOW-ENERGY AS OF LATE AND HER..." He whispers this next word, loudly though. " _GIRLFRIEND!_ " He grins and gives another thumbs up. "SAID I COULD HAVE SOME CAFFEINE SUPPLEMENTS! NATURALLY, I HAD MOST OF THE BOTTLE, OF COURSE."

Rick grins at the word 'girlfriend', though he's not quite sure why. "Of course you did, Vyvyan.  Have you not considered that so many tablets could be dangerous? You are a bloody medical student, aren't you?" Rick huffs, “Don’t they teach you anything about overdosing?”

"BECAUSE, RICK, I DON'T CARE ABOUT MYSELF AT ALL, YOU SEE." He paces up and down the room quite quickly. "ALSO, I’VE FOUND MYSELF TO BE QUITE RESILIENT TO MANY, MANY THINGS, RICHARD."

“Well, I must agree with you there Vyvyan. If you weren't yourself I’m pretty sure you'd be dead by now!"  Rick nods quite vigorously.   
"Do you know when they're going to wear off a bit? I don't want to hear you stomping about the house at four in the morning, I need my beauty sleep!"

Vyvyan laughs obnoxiously, "BEAUTY SLEEP? YOU'D NEED TO SLEEP FOR YEARS TO GET RID OF THAT UGLY MUG!" He points to Rick's face. 

"Sayin' that, so would you, Vyv." Mike chimes in. 

Vyvyan laughs more, pointing aggressively at the shorter man, "I KNOW, MICHAEL."

Rick sniggers at Mike's words, whilst he agrees, he doesn't really think Vyvyan is unattractive. In certain lights he might even look quite handsome. Or he would, /to a lady/, he thinks quickly.

Trying to think of something to say, he looks at Neil, who is still on the ground. "Neil, where's our tea?" He demands.

Neil hurriedly stands, his head pounding from the shovel and rushes up to the kitchen. "I'll just heat up the lentils and it'll be done, Rick, alright?" He turns on the stove and begins stirring the lentils.

Vyvyan thinks about what he said about Rick, he stops pacing and lands his gaze on the anarchist. He lets his expression soften in thought.   
He really doesn't know if he's right in thinking Rick is ugly, since Vyvyan had never even thought of it before.

Rick looks away from Neil and catches Vyvyan looking at him with an odd expression. If Rick didn't know better, he would call it....admiration? He's sure that can't be right though, he must have something in his eye. Or maybe he's thinking about his woman, Rick thinks suddenly, the feeling of someone punching him in the chest appears, which he pointedly ignores. 

He can't remember ever even wanting a girlfriend before, but he must if he's feeling jealous about Vyvyan's lady.

"What's that moony look for, Vyvyan? Thinking about a girl, are you?" He scoffs across the table. “When did you get some soft?”

Vyvyan instantly changes his expression to almost anger, his brows are furrowed and his nose is crinkled. He sits down opposite Rick, confused as to why Rick thinks he has a girlfriend. 

"NO!” He objects, before changing his mind. “Er, YES ACTUALLY! A LOVELY BIRD, SHE’S BANGIN'!" He says, giving Rick the V sign and laughing. He denies to himself that he was staring at, and thinking about, Rick. And not a girl.

Rick deflates slightly at Vyvyan's apparent confirmation that he has a girlfriend, even though technically he did ask. He tries to look interested, and ask Vyvyan some questions about her. "She's 'bangin', eh?" He wiggles his eyebrows. "What does she look like?"

Vyvyan struggles slightly for words. "Well, uh...She’s..uh. REALLY BANGIN’, y’know? Got blonde hair, massive knockers.” He nods snidely, laughs, and grabs his favourite bowl, ready for his lentils. He hopes Rick would just shut up about this, because he's getting a little bit annoyed that he has to keep lying.

Rick grins knowingly at Vyvyan's description, nodding along as if he's even seen a breast in his life.    
Seeing Vyvyan grab a bowl, he remembers it's time for tea and his stomach rumbles as if to confirm. He twists around in his seat to yell at Neil to hurry up.

"Alright, alright, Im comin', man." Neil walks over to the table, large pot in hand. He ladles some onto everyones plate for them.

"Lentils _again_ , Neil?" Mike says, "You'd think me a gaffer if I kept scroungin' like a looter!"

Vyvyan starts stuffing his face with the disgusting lentil casserole. He'd rather be eating cornflakes and ketchup, but they forgot to buy ketchup.

Rick digs into his own casserole. It’s not like he enjoys the taste or anything, but he is quite hungry from a hard days work of sitting and doing nothing.

Rick finishes his serving right after Vyvyan and drops his fork back in the bowl with a clatter.

Vyvyan looks around a bit. "God, I’m bored" He says, leaning his elbow on the table and placing his chin in his hand. He sighs.

Neil puts away the casserole for supper and leaves the room, making his way upstairs. It’s strange he doesn’t say anything as he leaves, as he usually does.   
Mike eats his serving quite slowly, carefully spooning each mouthful.

Rick sighs a long sigh and lays his face down on the table. He turns his head to look at Vyvyan when he speaks.    
"Maybe that's 'cos you're really boring, Vyvyan." he replies half heartedly. He sits up, letting out a loud yawn and groans, slamming his head into the table again.

"EXCUSE ME!" He stands up and puts his hands on his hips. "YOU'RE THE BORING ONE, PLOPPY PANTS!" He points vigorously at Rick. "YOU DO NOTHING BUT BORE ME!"

Rick's eyes lazily follow Vyvyan's movements from his vantage point on the table. "I am not boring, Vyvyan, I have lots of exciting skills that happen to be interesting to many people. Just because you've never noticed how wonderfully talented I am, does not mean I’m boring!"

Vyvyan laughs at the word 'talented', "THAT'S THE FUNNIEST THING I’VE HEARD ALL WEEK!"

"But Vyvyan, it’s only Tuesday." Neil says, entering the room again with his acoustic guitar.

"SHUT UP NEIL!" Vyvyan sits back down and crosses his arms.

Rick folds his arms, almost as if he was mimicking the punk. He rests his chin on his forearms, slouching significantly and watches as Neil arrives. "You're not going to play some awful hippie bollocks, are you Neil?" He whines.

Neil slowly looks between the guitar and Rick, processing the poet’s sentence. "No, Rick, I was gonna ask Vyvyan if he could tune it for me." 

Vyvyan perks up at this, finally, something to do.

"Alright, Neil, what's happenin'?" He asks, indoor-voice putting Neil on edge.

"Er...well, Vyvyan. I've just replaced the G string because it like, snapped earlier, heavy, man. But yeah, I don't know how to tune it by ear."

Vyvyan almost laughs at 'G string' and expects that Rick will say to Mike that they should make a really dirty joke or something.

As expected, Rick giggles at the words 'G string' in a girlish manner. "Hey, Mike, you could tell a _really dirty_ joke about a G string here, couldn't you?" He sniggers.

Mike nods off-handedly as he usually does when Rick says these things.

Vyvyan smirks, he knows Rick can’t resist the chance of a dirty joke. He perches on the back of the sofa, and holds the guitar as if he were to play it.

Rick is surprised that Vyvyan would be interested in doing something nice for Neil of all people. He finds himself interested to watch the guitar be tuned, he's never seen it be done before. 

He's also barely seen Vyvyan demonstrate any of his skills, any skills apart from destruction of course.

Vyvyan plucks each string, listening carefully at each one and turning the knobs at the head of the guitar, according to what he thinks is right.

Rick smiles as he watches Vyvyan tune the guitar, he looks so peaceful yet focused and Rick can't remember the last time he saw Vyvyan looking anything close to peaceful.

Once the punk is done, he places his fingers in a c-chord position, strums once downward, and a beautiful note emits from the guitar. He grins and hands Neil the instrument, "THERE YA GO, YA BIG HIPPIE!"

Neil takes the guitar and lazily plays a G chord, "Thanks, man! That's really neat, Vyvyan."

"Yeah Vyvyan," Rick calls out, "how did you learn how to do that?"

Vyvyan scrunches up his face in thought, as he usually does. "I dunno, really. I took guitar lessons when I was younger and just… learnt how the strings sounded?" He shrugs and takes a seat at the table, spinning the chair around and sitting on it backwards.

Rick nods in understanding at Vyvyan's words. Despite calling him a boring fascist all the time, he is genuinely interested in what he has to say, for once.   
He wonders what Vyvyan was like when he was younger. Was he the same angry punk all his life or did that come later on?

After supper, the four are gathered around the TV. Mike, Neil, and Rick are sat on the couch while Vyvyan, refusing to sit on the rickety chair, is sat on the floor with his back against the couch, and in between Rick and Mike's legs.

They watch impatiently as the News ends and Bastard Squad begins.

"FINALLY!" Vyvyan shouts, throwing his hands up in the air.

Rick leans back as to not get hit in the face by Vyvyan's flailing arms. He swats Vyvyan on the head to get him to stop. "SHUT UP VYVYAN YOU FASCIST! Some of us actually want to watch the show!"    
Rick shuts up too, so he can watch. He shifts around a bit to get more comfortable and ends up leaning one of his legs against Vyvyan's shoulder.

Vyvyan huffs and feels Rick lean his leg against him. He doesn't think much of it and crosses his legs. They all enjoy the show together, it’s pretty much the only time civil they have, where they don't fight or squabble. It’s really quite nice.

At some point during the show, Vyvyan had gotten bored, as it was clearly a filler episode, he leaned his head to the side to rest it on Rick’s knee.   
"God, this is so boring." he says, quite quietly. "I hate filler episodes."

Rick hears Vyvyan and hums quietly in agreement. He isn't that focused on what's going on in the program, he's just enjoying the peaceful feeling of watching the show with his friends. Every so often someone will make a comment on something that happens, and everyone else will nod or hum in agreement.

"Get up, Vyv, I gotta see the lizard king." Mike says, pushing him slightly to stand. Vyvyan  _instantly_ bolts up and takes Mike's seat, squashed up against Rick. "HA!" He screams in Mike's direction.

Mike waves him off and leaves the room.

Rick is momentarily comfortable as Mike stands up to leave, as the sofa isn't really designed for three fully grown men to sit on. He is however, almost immediately squashed again as Vyvyan throws himself into the gap Mike leaves. He shifts a little, mildly uncomfortable.

"Move over a bit, would you Neil," he says, "I can barely breathe here!"

"There's no room, Rick, I _can't!_ " Neil shuffles slightly further into the couch crease. He gives up, sighs and stands, walking over to the kitchen and starts soaking some more lentils.

Vyvyan pushes Rick into Neils spot, "Move over, lardarse," and takes up more room than someone his size should.

Rick hits his elbow on the arm of the sofa when Vyvyan pushes him. He winces and groans quietly, then sits up rubbing his elbow. He looks over to Vyvyan, who is laughing at him, and sticks his tongue out at him. 

The TV is now showing Not The Nine O'clock News and Rowan Atkinson is speeding across the screen.

When his elbow stops feeling weird, Rick flops about trying to get comfortable again. He ends up with his legs crossed on the sofa, his knee resting half on Vyvyan's leg, then finally starts paying attention to the TV.

Vyvyan looks at Rick’s leg, then at Rick, who seems to be focused on the screen showing Mel Smith having a wild time, but he doesn’t turn his head much, so it doesn't look like he’s actually looking at Rick.

He takes a moment to just look at him, he's not sure he's ever taken the time to really look at the anarchist's face before. Something about the way his cheekbones sit on his face, and the way his eyes wrinkle slightly when he squints at the TV. Vyvyan takes in his grubby, spotty appearance, appreciating his straight, pointed nose, and harsh eyebrows.

Vyvyan could _almost_ think of Rick as pretty, if he squints hard enough. The corners of his mouth turn upwards into an almost-smile, the calmness of the room had calmed the punk, too.

They're both relaxed, and sort of vulnerable in all this open space while being so close to one another.

Vyvyan thinks he might like this.   
He might like it more than he wants to.

Rick thinks he can sense Vyvyan looking at him but doesn't move to check. He's probably just imagining it since he can't see Vyvyan's pale face turned towards him in his peripheral vision.   
He isn't bothered really, he feels comfortable and warm. Not temperature-wise, they haven't paid the heating bill in months, but something in his chest that just feels right.

Vyvyan snaps out of his daze after a few moments and squeezes his eyes shut for a second before looking back to the TV.

It's not long before The White Dot appears on the screen, meaning it’s time to go to bed.

But Vyvyan had already fallen asleep, slowly leaning more and more toward Rick, not touching him quite yet, surprisingly light snores emit from his throat as his chest rises and falls.

Rick found himself getting more comfortable and more drowsy as the show went on. As it ends, he thinks about going up to bed until he hears soft snoring from Vyvyan's side of the sofa. He turns his head to see Vyvyan fast asleep and about to fall onto his shoulder.

He’s quite shocked to see Vyvyan in such a vulnerable state and wonders what to do. He feels like he ought to yell and push Vyvyan away, wake him up and go upstairs to their separate rooms and sleep in their separate beds. 

However, when he thinks about it, he really doesn't want to. 

He struggles internally for a few moments, worrying about what Vyvyan will say when he wakes up, or what Neil or Mike will say when they come downstairs in the morning.

Vyvyan falls onto his shoulder, startling him out of his dramatic inner conflict. He decides to sod it and just sleep here, he's comfortable and happy, and Rick Pratt, for god's sake, bloody anarchist. He doesn't care what anybody thinks of him. 

With this confident thought in mind he leans closer to Vyvyan and closes his eyes, quickly falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave any feedback you have! It's much appreciated :)


	4. Televisions & Poetry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The TV Detector man shows up and Vyvyan reads some of Rick's poems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This includes more dialogue from the show oops  
> It just helps things move along a little.
> 
> Enjoy!

The two sleep peacefully on the sofa, even with their increasingly loud snoring, and despite the fact that they’re both sat up, their heads craned backwards, hanging over the back of the sofa.

Early in the morning, Vyvyan opens his eyes and finds that he’s nestled himself in the crook of Rick’s neck. His chest feels a little funny, but he breathes slowly through his nose, attempting to diminish the tight feeling.

Vyvyan gently lifts his head, careful not to wake the sleeping anarchist. As soon as he’s upright, he notices Rick starts falling towards him, rolling gently. He softly catches the poet’s head and shoulder with his hands, one had resting on the side of Rick’s face. He carefully lifts and leans Rick to the arm of the sofa, where he can rest properly.

Making sure Rick hadn’t woken up, he quickly stands and tiptoes up the stairs, heart pounding against his ribcage.

His thoughts are a mess. How did he spend the whole night with that spotty-faced weasel? He enters his room and sits on the bed. His head in his hands, not thinking, not moving. Just breathing.

Downstairs, Rick begins to stir when the sun just starts to rise. He assumes it’s around six in the morning. The light filtering through the window illuminates the dust in the room.

He guesses that the sunlight had woken him up, shifting on the grimy sofa he lay upon.

As he wakes up a little more, he remembers what happened the evening before, and why he’s waking up on the sofa. The memory jolts him awake immediately.

The first thing he notices is the absence of the warm body which lay beside him through the night. He looks to where Vyvyan lay last night.

As confident as he seemed previously, he is now panicking slightly. He’s afraid that Vyvyan’s erratic and destructive behaviour will worsen toward him, he might even start ignoring him completely. 

He tries to calm himself by going through some breathing exercises, but he forgets them all and ends up making it a little worse. He decides he may as well go upstairs and get ready. He walks upstairs and into the bathroom as quietly as he can, lingering slightly outside Vyvyan’s door, listening to try and figure out if he’s awake or not.

After a while of staring at his floorboards, Vyvyan decides it's time for breakfast. He stands up, stretching his back, not thinking about how peaceful Rick looked while he slept, and swiftly opens his door, not expecting to find Rick loitering outside it.

Vyvyan thinks it might have been a good idea, even perhaps less awkward to have just stayed on the couch, sleeping close to Rick. Either way, anything would be better than this situation, because he realises that Rick might think he hates him.

Which he does, obviously. Vyvyan hates Rick with everything he has, he's always hates Rick. He's selfish, spotty, rude, and downright annoying.

He's slightly startled when he finds Rick outside his door, but he keeps himself controlled. He tries to think of something to say, but really, there’s nothing to say at all.   
He stands quite awkwardly while Rick is kind of in the way.

Rick absolutely does not expect Vyvyan to open the door while he’s standing in front of it like a complete tit. He was simply stopping to check if he was awake, but for all Vyvyan knows, he  could have been standing out there for hours.

This doesn't help his rather panicked state, and he realises that while he may have a way with words on paper, he has no idea what to say to Vyvyan.

“U-um...Good morning, Vyvyan,” He tries, immediately regretting his casual tone. He looks everywhere but at Vyvyan’s scowling face.

Vyvyan senses slight panic in Rick's tone. "Piss off." He says, his usual response to most things Rick says. He pushes past the spotty poet and stomps downstairs.

He sits at the table, not waiting for anyone else, after finding some stale cornflakes and ketchup.   
He grabs a spoon and mixes his cornflakes well, wondering if he should have been less pissy with Rick.   
He wasn't pissed or anything, it's just he doesn't want to show vulnerability, well, not any more than he has already. 

He feels that he's let Rick get a little too close, even though just the smallest things have happened over just the last few days. These small, tiny things have made a huge impact on him and the way he sees Rick. It's hurting his head a little to think this much about stuff, so he settles for reading the cornflakes box and eating his cereal.

Rick frowns slightly as Vyvyan leaves to go downstairs. He enters the bathroom and thinks. He assumes they're going to go back to normal, well, the normal they had before these strange moments over the past few days, where he feels almost as if he likes Vyvyan. The norm of trading insults over the kitchen table and whacking each other over the head with whatever object is within reach. 

Well, Rick reasons as he brushes his teeth, it was mainly him that got hit over the head. 

He doesn't mind though, he supposes, it's less confusing than all these odd feelings he's been having. 

He finishes brushing his teeth and heads downstairs. He can hear Vyvyan in the kitchen, eating what he assumes is ketchup on cornflakes from the loud crunching sounds.    
"Morning, Bastard!" He yells at Vyvyan as he enters the kitchen, hoping the insult will clear the air a little. 

Seeing that Neil isn't in the kitchen, he sighs heavily and opens various cupboards so he can make his own cup of tea.

Vyvyan pauses before pointing his spoon at Rick, "YOU'D THINK AFTER LIVING COMMUNALLY FOR THIS LENGTH OF TIME THAT WE'D GET PAST LAST-NAME BASIS, PRATT." He grins, scrunching up his face and resuming his eating of cornflakes, pouring a little more ketchup on, he wonders if Bovril would taste any good instead of Ketchup.

Rick grins to himself at Vyvyan's joke as he makes his tea. He's glad Vyvyan isn't angry at him, even though the punk was the one to fall asleep on him first.

Vyvyan doesn't know how to feel, really. Rick seems to be under the assumption everything is going to go back to normal, and Vyvyan is unsure if he can get his brain to go back, let alone his feelings.   
He decides it’s best to forget about the whole thing, he doesn't even know what to call the feelings! If it can't be named, it can't stay. 

He tries to keep his mind off all those girly things like feelings and friendship, tapping his foot to the silent rhythm of the atmosphere.

Rick sits down on the opposite side of the table to drink his tea and notices Vyvyan is examining the back of his cereal box. "Anything interesting on there?" He asks, crossing his legs under the table, accidentally brushing his calf against Vyvyan's as he does so.

Vyvyan feels Rick's leg against his own. Once again, his heart lurches, and he's left wondering why the bloody hell his body is doing weird things. Maybe it was an accident...maybe it wasn't. What if Rick...doesn't want things back to how they used to be? 

No. He's not going to panic, and remembers that he decided to forget all about it.

"Uhm.." He keeps his eyes on the box, his eyebrows furrowing as he reads a bit more, "NAH." He looks at Rick, taking in his morning face, he knows he saw him earlier, but he didn't notice how prett-   
His train of thought comes to a halt, he reminds himself once more that he was going to forget! about! it! "JUST SOME OUT OF DATE COMPETITION, REALLY." He bursts, recovering himself.

“Ah, why are you taking so long to read it then?" Rick wonders, Vyvyan hasn't really looked up from it at all since he's entered the room.   
He hopes that Vyvyan isn't trying to ignore him, as much as he hates the punk, and he does definitely hate him despite these odd few days, he would be even more bored than usual without Vyvyan around. He wonders if this means he must somewhat like Vyvyan, but decides to put that thought out of his mind by slurping on his tea loudly.

Vyvyan's eyes widen slightly. "Ah, well...you see,,, um. I DON'T LIKE READING MUCH IN THE MORNING, YOU SEE. NONE OF US ARE EVER AWAKE THIS EARLY, RICK, EVEN YOUR TINY PEA-SIZED BRAIN COULD FIGURE THAT OUT." Vyvyan was finding it difficult to keep eye contact with Rick, and also realises this is the longest time he's gone without injuring the poet in some way.   
He briefly looks around for something to smash over Rick, only to find there’s not a lot that would be of use within arms reach, so he decides to save it for another time.

Rick nods in understanding. "I guess that makes sense." He agrees, barely noticing the insult over the sound of his tiny pea-sized brain thinking about so many… things. 

He sighs and decides to perhaps write some soppy poetry about how he's feeling later. He knows it's awfully girly, but if it helps him sort out his feelings on Thatcher, he guesses it may help him figure out whatever feelings he has concerning Vyvyan at the moment.

Vyvyan finishes his cornflakes, and puts his bowl in the sink from where he is, throwing it quite viciously but not breaking the bowl when it lands.   
He grabs the newspaper from where Mike usually sits and reads the out-of-date news, leaning back in his chair and hiking his leg up onto the table as he usually does.

Rick finishes his cup of tea and contemplates throwing it into the sink too, but he would probably miss and break the cup. Which would be a shame, as it's one of his favourites. Not his most favourite, but it's up there. His favourite mug is one that says 'screw Thatcher' on it. He made it himself at the biannual Anarchist Pottery Festival.

He gets up to put the cup carefully in the sink. On the journey back from the sink, he hears an odd noise coming from somewhere in the kitchen. He turns around trying to find out where it came from. "Did you hear that?" He asks Vyvyan, looking around the room hopelessly.

Vyvyan looks up from his paper, not having heard a thing other than Rick asking him if he had heard anything. Vyvyan contemplates just saying he didn't, but decides to go for a more insulting approach, "YEAH, IT WAS PROBABLY YOUR SMELLY BOTTOM." He laughs, proud of his remark, and goes back to reading his paper, resuming his article about a large man by the name of Brian Damage escaping a police van and running rampant in the streets of London.

Rick rolls his eyes and ignores Vyvyan's silly remark. He circles the table trying to figure out where the sound came from. Was it even from the kitchen? He continues to look around wildly as if the source of the noise will suddenly reveal itself to him.

Giving up, he's just about to sit down, but he hears it again, slightly louder this time. It seems to be coming from inside one of the cupboards. Intrigued, he strides over and opens it to take a look. His eyes widen in surprise as he finds Special Patrol Group sitting inside, chewing on an old tea bag. "VyvyaN!" He whines. "Why is SPG in the kitchen cupboard?"

Vyvyan bolts up from the chair, surprised at what Rick had said. "WHAT?" He discards the newspaper and quickly makes his way to where Rick is standing. Both boys look bewilderedly at the hamster. "The bastard's been missing for days!" Vyvyan says, quieter this time. 

He can't believe he didn't think to look in the cupboards after searching the entire house. Vyvyan quickly thinks of a way to capture the rebel rodent. He leans close to Rick and whispers, "I'll grab him, you get the cage from the fridge, ok?" Vyvyan gives a thumbs up and waits for Rick to start moving.

Rick is halfway back with the cage before he even wonders why it was in the fridge in the first place. The cold metal feels soothing against his palms as he holds the door open close to the cupboard. "Hurry up then, Vyvyan, this cage is heavy!" He urges.

Vyvyan lurches forward, reaching for the hamster and clutching it in his hands. "GOT 'IM!" He shouts, yanking him from the cupboard and shoving him into the cage. "THAT’S THE LAST TIME YOU ESCAPE, SGP! YA HEAR ME?"    
SPG sighs, "Ooaye I fooken almost goet awaey wi dat woen dint a?" He says, the Glaswegian accent strong. Speaking is fruitless because the humans around him decipher his speech as hamster squeaks.

Rick stumbles backwards slightly as Vyvyan rather forcefully returns SPG to his cage. The hamster appears to squeak in protest as the door is closed and locked.   
"What on earth do you think he was doing in the cupboard, Vyvan?" Rick inquires. "Perhaps you left him too long without food again? Last time he ate the whole cage! It took us forever to find another one."

Vyvyan takes the cage from Rick, their hands brushing briefly, it somehow startles Vyvyan so much that he almost drops the cage. He takes some breaths and avoids looking at Rick yet again. "Uh,, probably, I guess. It's not my fault, I don't feed him so he won't get spoilt!" He chuckles kind of nervously and puts the cage on the table.

Rick notices that Vyvyan seems rather affected by the little brush of fingertips and almost blushes. He mentally slaps himself round the head for being such a girl about all this.    
He sighs internally and goes to retrieve his poetry book and just put all his confusing feelings in it so he doesn't have to have them flapping round in his brain. He then remembers that he never found his lucky pen.

"Oi, Vyvyan! Have you seen my lucky pen? You know, the red one with the wobbly anarchy logo on the end?" He asks, not really expecting him to know where it is.

Vyvyan is almost at the couch when Rick asks for his pen, he stops in his tracks and stands upright, vaguely remembering the whereabouts of the pen. "ERM. I THINK I SAW IT RECENTLY?" He pats his pockets, as if he's expecting to find it in one. 

He looks right at Rick for a few seconds before laughing. "YOU PLONKER!" He shouts, still laughing. He steps closer to Rick and it’s too late before Vyvyan realises he might be too close.

He reaches behind Rick's ear and takes the pen which had been tucked away there. "You lost this ages ago! How have you slept and got it to stay there?" He's still chuckling under his breath and slides the pen into Rick's dungaree chest pocket.

Rick actually does blush slightly at this, half from being caught doing something silly and half from Vyvyan being so close to him. He hopes Vyvyan doesn't notice despite him being only 10 inches away from his face.    
He realises he's been standing there simply staring at Vyvyan's face for too long. He quickly looks away and darts towards the sofa, where he sits down and opens his book.

Vyvyan sees a flush of pink on Rick's cheeks, and almost blushes himself. It kind of takes Vyvyan by surprise, maybe Rick was experiencing some similar...issues. Vyvyan realises that he doesn't find staring at Rick's face boring, it was actually one of the most interesting things he had done this week, for some reason.   
  


He doesn't expect to panic, but he does. He seems to be experiencing a lot of panic recently.   
His breathing is quickened and his heart rate goes up, but he find a way to keep a calm exterior and nonchalantly sits on the other end of the sofa, switching on the TV as he does.

Rick glances up briefly as Vyvyan sits down then quickly looks back down at his poetry book. He angles himself slightly away so that Vyvyan can't see what he's writing. He can't imagine how embarrassing it would be if he was to be found writing soppy poetry about Vyvyan, especially considering that he has that girlfriend he's spoken surprisingly little of. 

It's a little odd, if he's being honest, he would have thought that they'd never hear the end of it if Vyvyan got himself a nice bird. He decides to ask how she is, friendly conversation between Men and all.   
"Um- how's your bird doing Vyvyan? She well?" Rick asks in what he hopes is a non suspicious way.

Vyvyan looks at Rick, a confused expression plastered on his face. "Rick, what are you ta- OH YEAH, Uhm.. Shes, uh,, SHES GOOD, YKNOW, YEAH." He struggles to come up with a legible reply, but he thinks he's gotten away with it. He had very much forgotten that Rick thought he had a girlfriend. 

Maybe that's why Rick is acting the way he is. He's jealous that Vyvyan has a girlfriend, of course! Vyvyan hikes one leg over the arm of the chair. He hopes Rick shuts up about his non-existent girlfriend and picks at a thread coming loose on his jeans.

Rick nods confidently, though Vyvyan seemed less than confident in his reply. Maybe they've had an argument or something, Rick reasons, that would explain why Vyvyan's been acting oddly. He decides not to ask any further and returns to his poem.

He feels his ears getting red as he notes down some ideas. He can't deny now that he has some kind of feelings for Vyvyan, but maybe once he writes them down they'll go away, Rick hopes desperately. 

He looks up at Vyvyan and finds himself staring at his face again. It's confusing, as Vyvyan would probably wouldn't be considered pretty by any standards, but that's the word that's coming to mind as he looks at every feature on the punk's face. He absentmindedly jots down some sappy bollocks about the line of his jaw, and immediately blushes when he looks down at everything he's written.

Vyvyan thinks he can feels Rick's eyes on him, but he doesn’t look to check. Instead he focuses on the boring drab happening on-screen. All sorts of bollocks are shown on telly early in the day.

At this point, Mike and Neil had made their way downstairs and into the kitchen for breakfast. Vyvyan checks his watch and finds its 12:30, just in time for one of the better programmes they show.   
"WHO'S UP FOR WATCHING AFTERNOON PLUS? CHANGE IT OVER, RICK!" He shouts, practically bouncing on the sofa. Neil and Mike take a seat, Mike in-between Rick and Vyv, and Neil on the rickety chair.

"Alright! Alright!" Rick exclaims, quickly shutting his book and shoving it in his back pocket. He changes the channel over only to reveal the test picture and some soft music playing. He turns it off with a groan. "How pathetic, there's nothing on! I don't know why we even pay our TV licence!"

Mike awkwardly scratches the back of his head. "Uhh, Rick. We don't have a TV licence, actually." He shrugs and drums his fingers against his knees.   
Neil looks at Mike, then at the TV. "I didn't know you had to pay to watch TV.."   
Vyvyan leans back into the sofa, sighing, mainly annoyed he's gonna miss the show.

Rick gasps, his hand covering his mouth in shock. He balls his hands into fists at his sides, "But that makes me a criminal!" Rick thinks about it for a second, perhaps this isn't so bad, rebellion is in his blood, after all. 

He quickly redeems his unsightly shocked reaction, "Right on! Yeah, this will shake them up at the Anarchists Society! Occupying the refectories! So what? This is the real stuff! I'm a fugitive! A desperado!" Rick flails his arms with expression. "I'm going to form a new union society, right? With me as the president!" He says in outburst, pointing at himself. "'People Who Don't Pay Their TV Licenses Against the Nazis!'" He takes out his poetry book and pen and starts writing, leaning against the shelving. "This is only the beginning!"

Vyvyan throws an empty stray beer bottle at Rick, besides thinking about the things he had said, if he knew what half of the things meant, perhaps he might find the poet interesting, but he tries not to bother with all this politics malarkey. "What are you gonna do, Rick? Burn your bra?" He laughs at his own joke, hearing Mike chuckle, too.

Rick looks back at him with an entirely straight face. "Well, somebody's got to do it Vyvyan! We can't all just sit on our arses like you all day!" He then gives him a look remarkably similar to a mother telling off a child.

Vyvyan turns his nose up at Rick, "NOT IF YOU HAVEN'T GOT A BOTTOM!" He's almost cut off by a strange sound ringing throughout the house.

“What was that?" Vyvyan asks, looking confused.

"That'll be the doorbell, Vyv." Mike says, putting his hands on his hips, kind of hovering between the kitchen and the drawing room.

"Oh, I bet I know who's got to answer it."  Neil says monotonously.

Mike questions Neil, "But I thought you liked meeting people, Neil?"

Neil sighs and gets up, looking to the distance for some reason, "If I had a penny for every time I had to answer the door, I'd have five pound, sixty-three!" He then makes his way to the door, meanwhile Vyvyan screams,   
"I BET IT’S SOMEONE UNBELIEVABLY BORING. LIKE RICK!"   
Vyvyan almost gets cut off again, but this time it's by Neil, and not the doorbell.   
"Oh no! It’s the TV detector man, heavy!" He says, running back into the drawing room.

Rick leaps in fright and raises his hands to his face. "OH NO! Mike, why didn't you buy a license, you bastard! I'm going to go to prison! What will the youth do without the People's Poet?" He gestures wildly when saying all of this, almost hitting Neil in the face at several points.

Mike starts defending himself, "Yeah, steady on! Steady on! We're not beat yet! Alright, the time has come for diplomacy and very quick thinking!"

During this, Neil has made his way back to the door where the TV licence detector man is, he shouts into the house, "Oh no, He's asked me if we've got a telly! I think I'm gonna have to lie! Bad Karma..."

Mike chimes back in, "Alright, the time for diplomacy is over! All we've got left is quick thinking!" Mike unplugs the TV and turns to Vyvyan, "Vyv?" At this, Vyvyan immediately perks up to Mike's attention. "Chuck the telly out the window!"

Rick eyes widen and he nods in agreement at Mike's idea. "Yes, quickly, quickly, get rid of it Vyvyan!"

Vyvyan then picks up the TV and chucks it at the window. Unexpectedly, it simply bounces right off the glass. The boys stare at it in disbelief.

The TV falls with with a thud, not breaking in the slightest. Mike looks at Rick, then at Vyvyan, "That I did not expect." He says, befuddled.

Vyvyan perks up with an idea, "What if we sneak it out past him into the street?!" He puts his hands on his hips and node, it’s a fantastic idea.

Rick yells, "Yes! Yes that's a great idea! Mike, you go outside and point up at the sky, and say 'look at that interesting thing up there'!" He instructs Mike, then turns to Vyvyan. "You disguise the TV as an old woman and sneak it past him!" He grins at his wonderful plan.

Mike shakes his head and points toward Rick. "Rick, suicide may be a great hobby, but I wouldn't do it for a living!" He says, starting to pace up and down the hall.   
From the door, the other three hear Neil,  "Lads, I've told him we don't have a telly and I think that's thrown him a bit, but it won't hold him forever!" Neil starts listening to the TV Detector Man again.

"Good thinking Neil! Keep him talking!" Rick yells across the room, then starts writing in his notebook.   
Mike looks at a fixed point in the distance as if looking at an invisible person. "This is a tricky spot, but Mike, the cool person, will squeeze it!" He then looks over at Rick, who is making quiet whimpering sounds. "Rick, stop crying."

Rick jumps and looks up at Mike, rubbing angrily at his eyes. "I'm not crying, Mike, I just have something in my eye, that's all!" He immediately looks back down at his notebook and continues writing.

Mike continues pacing for a while, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, he experiences a eureka-like moment, "Vyv?!" He shouts.

At the call of his name, Vyvyan whips around to face Mike, waiting for what he has to say. "Eat the telly!" Mike commands, pointing at the box on the floor.

At this, Vyvyan grins, " THAT’S A COMPLETELY BRILLIANT IDEA, MIKE!" He picks up the TV and sits where it used to stand. "I've been wanting to do this for a long time!" Vyvyan takes a huge chunk out of the TV with his teeth and starts chewing.

Rick cleverly thinks to write a note in his book to prove he's innocent, when they inevitably get arrested and imprisoned. 'It was the other three, not me. I had no idea what was going on, it really was the other three!' he writes.

Neil is still trying to stall the man at the door. "Alright, don't rush me, that's not an easy question to answer. 'Have I got a telly?' There could be like, a number of different replies. I need time to think one up, you know?"

The TV Detector man shoves his way inside the house, "Right, where's this telly?" Upon looking at the place a television would usually sit, he finds Vyvyan instead of a TV, "Ah-hah! So you do have it! You little runt!" He says after spotting the television cord hanging from Vyvyan’s lips, having successfully eaten the TV. 

He walks over to Vyvyan and Vyvyan waves to the man. "The old trick, eh? Eat the telly before I get a chance to nick you!"

Vyvyan grins, "IT’S A TOASTER!" He shouts around the cord, pointing at his mouth.

The TV detector man rolls his eyes, "It's a telly you yobbo! Now give it back, I want to nick you!" He leans over and grabs Vyvyan's hands, puts his foot on Vyvyan's stomach and pulls. Mike quickly intervenes.

"Excuse me! OKAY! Now, toaster or telly, the contents of my colleague's stomach are private property! And if they get damaged in any way, we sue!" He puts his hands on his hips after his little outburst. “What’s your name anyway?”

"Well I can wait!" exclaims the man. "I've dealt with your sort before! And my name’s Bastard.” He answers Mike, handing him a business card. “Where's the toilet?" He suddenly asks Neil.

"Oh, upstairs." answers Neil, confused. "Just follow your nose."    
Rick huffs in annoyance. "Oh that's great Neil, just tell the fascist where our toilet is!"

Vyvyan thinks it’s weird that the man shares his last name until Mike hands him the card and sees that it’s spelt differently.

Mr Bastard seems to ignore Rick's outburst and heads towards the stairs. "I'm going up there now to wait! When that telly comes out the other end you're nicked!"

He begins ascending the stairs, coming back into the room briefly to give them all a once-over and goes back to making his way up to the bathroom.

When he's out of earshot, Vyvyan speaks up, "Its alright, lads! I always poo before I get up!"

Both Rick and Neil let out a sigh of relief. "What a terribly boring man." says Rick, rolling his eyes.

Neil looks at Rick. "No, Rick, that was really heavy. Hey, what's this?" he sees the page from Rick's notebook and reads it out loud. "'It was the other three...'" He looks at the paper with confusion. 

Rick grabs the paper out of his hands quickly, blaming Neil, "Give me that! Ah, I see, trying to blame us and save yourself Neil! Don't worry Mike, I'll get rid of it!" He tears the paper up and throws it away.

Vyvyan is about to suck the TV cord like spaghetti when SPG takes the cord from the TV and plugs it in, laughing menacingly, causing Vyvyan to be electrocuted, a blue stream of electricity coming from his head, making some gurgling sounds. 

He pulls the cord out with some effort and walks over to SPG on the floor, and proceeds to stomp him flat, jumping up and down on him with his steel capped Kicker Boots, "BASTARD!" He shouts, "I think it's the toaster for you!" He picks up the hamster and strides into the kitchen and thrusts SPG in the toaster, turning it on. Smoke starts coming out of the appliance, "BURN!" 

SPG pops out, toasted. "Brilliant!" Vyvyan says, taking SPG over to the sink and dunking him into the greasy dishwater.

Mr Bastard comes downstairs again, "Did anyone call my name?" He asks, sure he heard his name being shouted.

Mike tells him, "No, Mr Bastard, but as you can see there’s no telly here!" He gestures around the room, disorientating the man. He mumbles and agreement and hurriedly leaves the house, 

"Phew!" Vyvyan hears Mike say as he flops down on the sofa, he’s pained and disheveled from being electrocuted.

Rick sighs too at the exhausting time they have just had. He goes over to the sofa and shoves Vyvyan's legs aside so he can sit down.    
"God I'm tired!" He exclaims, throwing his head back against the top of the sofa. "What time is it, Mike? Surely it's time for tea now?"

Mike checks his watch and informs Rick that it is in fact 4:30 pm, time for tea indeed.   
"NEIL! Make us tea! I'm starving over here!" Rick complains loudly.

Vyvyan frowns at Rick when his legs are shoved aside but puts them on Rick's lap as punishment, boots hitting his thighs.   
He feels a bit tingly, probably from the electrocution. He rubs his temples to try and rid of the oncoming headache due to the commodities of communal living, honestly, he's getting tired of all this kerfuffle. He realises that without these three buffoons, his life would be a lot more boring.   
He decided to stop thinking.   
He shouts in the general direction of Neil, "YEAH, NEIL. ARE YOU GONNA MAKE TEA, OR SHALL I KICK YOUR TEETH IN?" 

At this point Neil had rushed over to the stove to heat up the lentils.

Rick smiles sleepily when Neil begins to prepare their tea, he really is hungry, even for the tasteless mush Neil always prepares for them.   
He shifts his legs a little to get them a little more comfortable with Vyvyan's heavy boots digging into his thighs. He finds a suitable position and smiles, closing his eyes. He feels happy and relaxed, despite being tired and hungry from the day's wild activities.

Vyvyan watches as Rick closes his eyes, a content look on his face. He wishes he could be that relaxed, he can't remember the last time he'd been relaxed or calm.

He quickly gets sick of this calm, content rubbish and leans over the arm of the sofa to pull up a floorboard. He looks at Rick, seeing his eyes are still closed.

He devises a plan, as soon as Rick opens his eyes, he's gonna whack him. He grins, thinking that this is perfect, some mindless violence to keep him pert.

Rick takes his time relaxing on the sofa, it's not often he feels peaceful like this. He decides after a while to see what's on the TV. Just as he opens his eyes, he is attacked with a hard whack to the head, causing him to scream in pain.   
"VYVYAN YOU UTTER BASTARD!" He yells at the now grinning punk.

Vyvyan laughs, dropping the board. "YOUR FACE, RICK! THAT WAS BRILLIANT" He kicks his legs about from laughing.   
Mike chuckles from somewhere in the drawing room, nobody is keeping tabs on where he is.   
Vyvyan mock-wipes a tear and 'casually' punches Rick in the arm, "You're such a drama queen, Rick!"

Rick huffs and rolls his eyes at Vyvyan's mocking of him. "Being a drama queen's better than being a faSCIST! HA!" He grins, proud of coming up with such a quick and witty retort.    
He kicks at the board lying on the floor, hoping Vyvyan won't pick it up and hit him with it again.

Vyvyan scrunches up his face at Rick. "Y'KNOW.. YOU CONSTANTLY CALL ME A FASCIST, RICK....BUT..." He twists slightly to face the anarchist a bit more, "...IN WHAT WAY AM I A FASCIST?" He asks, crossing his arms in confusion.

Rick is initially shocked at Vyvyan's question, then slightly stumped as he tries to figure out a reasonable answer. "Well...I.. um...because..well, because you hate me, of course! I'm the People's Poet! Spokesman of the anarchist youth! I embody everything about the spirit of revolution itself, you know! Why would you hate me if you don't hate revolution, hmm?!" Rick nods seriously at Vyvyan, raising his eyebrows.

"BECAUSE YOU’RE A COMPLETE BASTARD." Vyvyan barely waits for Rick to finish before answering his 'Why would you hate me?' question. He decides to leave it at that, grinning at the poet, "AND I’VE READ YOUR POEMS, RICK, I’VE SEEN YOUR GIRLY WRITING!" He lies, hoping to get a rise out of the spotty boy.

Rick's expression drops quickly into one some may call 'complete terror'. Rick isn't concerned about Vyvyan reading his regular poems about Thatcher and anarchism, no, those he shows to everyone whether they like it or not. 

What Rick is afraid of is Vyvyan seeing the most recent additions to his poetry book, the ones about the punk's stupid pretty face. "U-umm what do you mean Vyvyan, you haven't read my writing sort of...recently, have you?" He questions in a way he hopes is subtle.

Initially shocked at Rick's terrified expression, he decides to take it further. Vyvyan's scrunched face turns into somewhat of a smirk. 

He raises his eyebrows, "What if I have?" He asks, rubbing his chin in a questioning manner. In truth, he hasn't touched that notebook of his for a few weeks now, since Rick shares pretty much everything from it with the entire house.

Rick begins to panic, has Vyvyan seen his girly poems? However, he feels as though Vyvyan would be making fun of him a lot more if he had read them. He decides to probe a little further. 

"Well," he asks, "if you have actually read my latest pieces, Vyvyan, what did you think of them? Hm?" He tries to say this with as much confidence as he can, considering Vyvyan could embarrass him horribly with his next sentence.

Vyvyan stalls slightly, Rick might be onto him, but more importantly... Rick is hiding something.   
He hums and glances at the book in the poet's front dungaree pocket.   
He decides to go for it.

He lunges forward, nabbing the book and leaping off the sofa, legging it up the stairs. 

Rick lets out a small yelp of surprise and chases Vyvyan up the stairs and into the punk’s room. 

As soon as Vyvyan sits down on his bed, he opens the book and goes to the end, not expecting what he finds. 

Rick desperately hopes that the punk somehow hasn't opened the book yet and he'll be able to grab it back, but alas, when he enters the room Vyvyan is sitting on his bed and reading his latest poems with a peculiar expression on his face. "Vyvyan....I swear....I-I can explain!" He stutters nervously.

Vyvyan hears Rick enter and his babbling but he holds up a finger to shut Rick up, not looking away from the pages. He begins reading aloud the anarchist's awful poetry.

"A feeling of mystery,   
passed me by yesterday.   
The bright orange of tomorrow,   
leads me a-wonder.   
Stars in a queue across a warm sky,   
above an ocean of ice blue."

Vyvyan squints at the page. He feels his face go warm and his heartbeat quicken. He succeeds in making legible words through his awkwardly shaky breath.

"Rick, what's all this girly scribble? You writing about a girl or summat?" He turns the page and reads more.

"Punk! Oh, how you crash! BURN! and plunder!   
Punk! Oh how I wonder!   
Ker-plunk! Ker-plunk! My chest blunders!" 

He really isn't getting the gist of these ones and starts getting overwhelmed, he mistakes the feeling for anger. "Why are you writing about a silly board game? KER-PLUNK ISN'T EVEN FUN, RICK!" He stands up, shoving the book at the poet's chest, pushing him slightly. He leaves the room, slamming the door as hard as he can behind him and makes his way to the bathroom, slamming the door once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback is welcomed!


	5. Lentils & Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike suggests Vyvyan and Rick have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a while, whoops! But I'm hoping to update more frequently!

Rick clutches the book to his chest as Vyvyan leaves the room loudly. He feels quite anxious and his legs are trembling rather vigorously, causing him to collapse onto the wooden floor painfully. Not that Rick notices, he's too busy trying to return his heart rate to normal. 

He knows he's somewhat safe for now, but he's sure if Vyvyan thinks some more about what he's written he may figure out it's not about a girl at all. 

He does think that's a rather good lie, however. If Vyvyan doesn't ask him anything suspicious, he will simply say he's wooing a bird, yes! He could even ask Mike for some tips, make it that little bit more convincing. And if he just happens to use them on Vyvyan, well, that's none of anyone's business, is it?

Flustered, Vyvyan paces in the bathroom for a few moments, the lights are off so he can't see much. His face feels hot and he feels like he's going to burst at the seams.   
Is this anger? He wonders. No. Because he knows what anger feels like.   
This is different.   
Bright orange of tomorrow?   
Stars in a queue above an ocean of blue?   
His mind is whirling, too many thoughts at once. He slams his head against the sink, hoping to shock his mind into thinking logically. It doesn't work.   
He pulls at his hair and yells. What is wrong with him?   
Had Rick really written that about him? It can't be. Rick wouldn't write that stuff about him, he hates him!    
It has to be about a girl. A ginger one. With..stars??? and blue??? eyes??? maybe? He slams his head again, against the bricks of the wall this time.

Rick can hear Vyvyan's yells and thuds from the bathroom across the hallway. He briefly debates going to talk to him, but decides against it. He's sure Vyvyan would only whack him with a floorboard or something as equally ridiculous.    
He supposes he may as well go downstairs and wait for Neil to finish the tea. He gingerly makes his way past the bathroom and lightly steps down the stairs, clutching his poetry book tightly as he goes. He's not going to let it leave his side ever again after this.

Mumbling to himself about how he doesn’t get enough recognition for his work around the house, Neil has the lentil pot in the middle of the table, as usual. Mike and the hippie are sitting in almost silence as the radio plays some mindless hogwash.   
Mike is reading a newspaper and looks up when Rick walks in, "What you two yellin' about up there? You're gonna confuse the fargos!" He leans back in his chair, and continues reading, leaving the rest of his food.

Vyvyan ends up lying in the grubby bathtub, lifting his head and letting it drop against the wall behind him. He realises that he's where it all started, this mess with Rick.   
The poet had been topping himself in the bathtub and him coming in and disturbing him had pretty much been a turning point in their friendship.

Rick sits down at the table and takes a small serving of lentils. He knows he was rather hungry earlier, but the incident with Vyvyan had stressed him out and rather spoiled his appetite. He eats the mush in a mutual silence with Mike and Neil. Every so often he hears a dull thud from upstairs in the bathroom, he wonders what Vyvyan is doing in there.

Neil looks up from his food at Rick, "Is Vyvyan coming down for tea? He said he was going to kick my teeth in if I didn't make it earlier, which meant he was pretty hungry."    
  


Vyvyan gets up, leaving the bathroom. He stands on the landing at the top of the stairs, unsure of what to do.

Rick shrugs and mumbles with his mouth full of lentils. He notices that the sounds from upstairs have stopped, perhaps Vyvyan is finally coming downstairs for his tea.   
Rick swallows his lentils with a large anxious gulp. He can't imagine Vyvyan would have a serious discussion with him with Mike and Neil present, but he could very well still make fun of him. Rick sighs and pushes his lentils around with his spoon. If he'd never written those soppy poems he wouldn't be in this mess.

Vyvyan reminds himself that he always follows his first instincts.   
He he decides to go back into the bathroom to start again.   
He clears his head by hitting it a couple of times on the sink again. And barges out of the door, his intuition taking over, along with his anger.   
He stops down the stairs, a few steps cracking and splintering as he heavily trods down them.   
He gets the the bottom and enters the kitchen where everyone is gathered around the table.   
He looks directly at Rick, who's eating the mush Neil calls lentil casserole.

Rick looks up at Vyvyan when he enters the room and finds that the punk is already looking right at him. He flushes slightly and quickly looks back down at his lentils, which he has squished into the shape of the anarchist logo.    
"Finally decided to come and eat, have you Vyvyan?" He asks, a little quieter than he usually would.

Vyvyan scrunches up his face, turns to look at the radio sitting on top of the fridge.   
After a moment, he grabs it and smashes it over Rick's head, shattered plastic going everywhere. He doesn't laugh like he usually would.   
"Vyvyan! You've got plastic in the lentils, man!" Neil whines.   
Vyvyan gives him the V and goes to sit opposite Rick, "Move, you poof." He says, shoving the poet's chair to get past.   
When he sits down he doesn't take any lentils, he just leans on his hand, elbow on the table.   
He picks up a stray pencil and scribbles on the wood.

Rick hardly notices the radio being smashed onto his head, he only realises exactly what has happened when Neil complains. He huffs slightly and goes back to poking the lentils around.    
Hearing scratching sounds from opposite him, Rick looks up to see Vyvyan doodling something on the table. He cranes his head round to try and figure out what it is.

Vyvyan finishes etching the bat he was doodling into the table and begins tapping the pencil against the wood.   
He doesn't look anywhere else, feeling quite awkward. He thinks that it would have been a better idea to just stay upstairs.   
Mike ominously puts down the newspaper, looks into a random spot in the room and says, "The tension in here is thicker than those lentils." He laughs to himself and goes back to reading his paper as if nothing happened.   
Vyvyan had looked up at Mike, and then looked at Rick when Mike finished.

Rick winces slightly at Mike's words, only because he knows them to be true. He looks at Vyvyan to find him looking straight back yet again. The anarchist attempts a reassuring smile, but he's afraid it came off as more of a grimace. 

Vyvyan is shocked when Rick smiles at him. It seemed...genuine?   
  
Rick finally gives up on his lentils and pushes the plate away, leaning back in his chair and tipping his head back to gaze at the ceiling. He curiously investigates a patch of mould up there that seems to be growing as he's watching it.

Vyvyan shakes his head and chucks the pencil across the table, landing graphite-first into Neil's plate of lentils. He chuckles and Neil makes a noise of complaint, "Vyvyan! I was eating that!"    
Vyvyan leans over and yanks the pencil from the pile of sweaty brown mush, and unsurprisingly the entire plate comes up with it. "NEIL, IT'S SOLID!" He says between laughter.   
"SPOTTY! TAKE A LOOK AT THIS!" He waves the sculpture of pencil, lentil mush, and plate around with what he would describe with glee, almost. He found this unbelievably funny for whatever reason.

Rick looks down from his ceiling examination and is presented with Vyvyan waving round whatever he has stuck to his pencil. Rick giggles at Vyvyan's expression of sheer joy at his creation, which he can now see is actually Neil's tea. His giggling turns into full blown laughter as chunks of lentil begin to fly off the plate and onto the boy's faces. Rick narrowly dodges a lump headed for his eye, by skillfully falling off his chair and onto the ground.

"RICK, YOU CLUMSY OAF!" Vyvyan shouts when Rick hits the floor, still laughing. Mike had chuckled briefly before getting quickly bored of the childish situation and returning to his newspaper.   
Neil is desperately grasping at the plate, but Vyvyan is quick to make sure he dodges the hippy.   
Vyvyan shouts to Rick, "CATCH, GIRLY!" He throws the entire thing over the table, unable to actually see Rick, but he's got good aim. If that makes any sense.

Rick is still giggling on the floor when Vyvan yells at him to catch. Rick hasn't got the best hand-eye coordination, but still tries his best to catch the plate that's quickly falling towards him. He does actually catch the plate, however, most of the lentils have fallen onto his face from the force of Vyvyan's throw.   
He thinks about getting angry about it, but the whole situation is pretty funny, and he's stressed and tired, which simply causes Rick to fall into hysterics yet again.

Vyvyan stands to see the consequences of his throw, upon seeing Rick, his laughter gets harder as he doubles over, clutching his stomach. "BRILLIANT!" He wheezes.   
Neil huffs and puts the big pot back on the stove. Counting how many days its got left until they should really throw it away.

  
Vyvyan leans over the table, arms bracing himself and watches as Rick laughs on the ground covered in lentils.   
Vyvyan smiles at the poet, almost catching him thinking about how pretty he may or may not be.

Rick can barely see through the thick layer of lentils on his face as he continues to laugh. He reaches up to scrape some off his face. When he opens his eyes, he sees Vyvyan leaning over him, grinning. Rick giggles and flicks the lentils at the punk's face, laughing even more at his shocked expression when they hit him.

Vyvyan doesn't expect Rick to retalite the way he does. He gasps, the now cold lentils hit him with a slop.   
Moments pass until he jumps onto the table, slyly grabs Mike's leftovers as he leaps, vaulting over the dining table and landing on Rick, knees either side of his waist.   
Vyvyan raises the lentil covered plate above his head and slams it down onto Rick's already slimy scalp. Vyvyan laughs more and smears it in the anarchists hair.

Rick is more shocked at Vyvyan sitting on top of him than he is by the lentils now in his hair. His chest flutters and his stomach tightens as he realises he's actually having fun yet again with Vyvyan. He ignores his treacherous emotions and reaches up to smear more lentils in Vyvyan's face. One hand is attacking his chin, and one is reaching down his shirt to deposit lentils all down his back.

Vyvyan sees Rick's eyes widen but sees that he quickly composes himself. He loses balance when Rick's hand goes near his neck to drop lentils down his shirt due to ticklishness. His hands land on either side of Rick's head, arms bent slightly. Their faces aren't close, but it's the situation and overall position that makes Vyvyan's breath hitch in his throat.

Rick blushes furiously at the way Vyvyan is leaning over him. He looks at Vyvyan's face, staring into his eyes before briefly glancing down at his lips.    
The hand on Vyvyan's face moves in a way that's more of a caress than a 'smearing lentils on your face' movement.

Vyvyan tenses his jaw, feeling Rick's hand there. Vyvyan sucks in a sharp breath when he sees Rick's eyes move down to his lips and backs away with speed, as if the poet was made of hot coal. He stands and turns to leave, tripping on SPG as he does. He rebalances and grabs the nearest thing to him, which happens to be the toaster, lifting it above his head, ready to throw at Rick.   
"VYV!" Mike shouts. He stands beside Vyvyan, a hand on his shoulder. Vyvyan is breathing heavily and rips his gaze from Rick to look at Mike.    
"WHAT?" He shouts back, not realising how shaky his voice would be.   
Mike jumps slightly at the volume, "Listen, we need the toaster incase Mr Balowski comes round. He provided it."   
Vyvyan rolls his eyes and throws it anyway.   
But not at Rick, to the ground.   
  


"Well, that was a bit silly." He hears Neil say.   
"OH, PISS OFF YOU GREASY HIPPY!" He yells, spit flying from his mouth. Not knowing what else to do, confused and overwhelmed, Vyvyan sits on the ground where he is. Just flops down his entire body into a cross-legged schoolchild position.   
Mike wonders how his coccyx is even intact. The cool person looks at Rick briefly before kneeling beside Vyvyan, whispering something to him. Vyvyan nods and Mike stands back up, looking at Rick again.

Rick's face turns even more red as he sits up on the ground, this time looking everywhere but Vyvyan's stupid face. He wonders briefly what Mike has said to Vyvyan, but the curiosity is quickly overwhelmed by his own emotional turmoil.    
He always has to ruin every nice moment they have by being a big soppy bastard and taking it too far. Rick then crosses his arms in frustration, not knowing what to do next. Perhaps he should just go upstairs and write some more bloody poetry, in a different book of course.

Mike takes Vyvyan upstairs, the punk hanging his head.

Neil stands there, clueless. "What...what was all that about, Rick?" He asks, looking at the poet on the ground. "Are you warm? Your face is all red!" He points at Rick, watching the flustered boy cross his arms.   
Neil can hear a lot of noise upstairs, he hears loud voices, but can't make out what they're saying.   
Vyvyan is shouting at Mike, who is trying to reason with him. "Vyv, listen, right. Its bloody obvious that-"   
"NO MIKE! IT'S NOT! BECAUSE ITS NOTHING, OKAY. IM FINE" The redhead shouts, throwing his alarm clock at the short man.

"Oh, shut up Neil, I'm perfectly bloody all right, okay?" Rick pipes up, more to himself than the hippie.   
He gets up and stomps over to the sofa, sitting down with a thump. Rick tries to turn on the TV to drown out the sounds of Vyvyan and Mike yelling upstairs, but finds that there's nothing on this late. He huffs and lies down on the sofa, arm flung dramatically over his face.

Neil finds nothing to do other than wash the dishes, so he does that.

  
Not long after, Vyvyan had finally calmed down and had an almost reasonable conversation with Mike. The shorter man leaves the punk where he is, sat on his bed with his head in his hands.   
He makes his way downstairs, announcing his entrance. He walks up to Rick and stands over him.   
"Alright, get up. We need to talk." Mike says.

Rick peers out from under his arm and stands up to face Mike. "What is it?" He asks with a little too much worry in his voice for someone simply concerned about their friend.    
Rick realises he still has lentils all over his head, and tries to wipe some of them off with an already questionably stained sleeve.

"Right," Mike sighs, sitting on the arm of the couch. "Vyvyan has been telling me about 'some girly poems' and they’re the reason he’s acting the way he is." Mike, himself, is confused because Vyvyan was very cryptic about what he said. "I didn't get much from him, but, Rick, I do know that you two need to sort some...things...out." He crosses his arms and hopes Rick says a bit more than Vyvyan did.

Rick gulps, not really wanting to have to explain himself to Mike, but he knows the cool person just wants him and Vyvyan to work things out. He fiddles with his shirt cuff a little, pulling on a loose thread.   
"Well...you see Mike...I-I may have written some poems, that Vyvyan may have...misinterpreted slightly. He may have thought that they were...about him, but they weren't! I swear Mike! Look, what do you want? Money?" He asks desperately, knowing he wasn't convincing at all.

Mike goes to shake his head, stops, thinks about it, and realised that he's not here to make money, he's here to reinforce their usually peaceful communal living. "No, Rick. This time I just wanna talk." He sighs, looks off into the distance and focuses onto a random place in the room, "That's the first and last time Mike the Cool Person denies money!”   
He turns back to Rick, "Can I see these said poems?" He holds out his hand expectantly.

Rick sighs, clearly defeated, and reaches into his pocket to pull out his notebook. He opens it to the correct page and hands it to Mike, then immediately looking at the ground.    
Normally he would be thrilled that someone actually Asked to see his poems, but this time it just had to be the one page he never planned to show anyone.

Mike slowly reads the poems shown to him. "What are they about...if they're not about Vyv?" the short man questions, noticing a lot of the contents of the poem resemble the red-headed punk. He sees Rick's awkwardness and senses that Rick would rather talk about anything other than this.

Pulling a face of despair, Rick mumbles something inaudible under his breath. He sighs and repeats himself so Mike can hear him. "Th-they are about Vyvyan, Mike." he admits guiltily. He then looks up at Mike to see his reaction.

Mike's eyebrows raise in surprise. "I didn't expect you to admit it, honestly." He hands Rick his book back. "I had no idea you were queer, Rick." He says nonchalantly. He tries to think of how he could help the two reconcile. "I really think you should talk to him. Some of the things he said, Rick.." He trails off.

Rick's expression turns to one of hope, regardless of how he bets Vyvan probably hates him. "Really!" He exclaims, clasping his hands together in front of his chest. "What did he say?"

Mike stumbles over his words, not having prepared anything to say, really. "W-well.. do you remember when Vyvyan went to his lecture and I said he was talking about some pretty soppy feelings?? Well...he maybe told me a bit more about..who..he was on about. But don’t tell 'im! Just go speak to him, poet boy."   
He gestures up the stairs.

Grinning, Rick practically leaps towards the stairs and sprints up them towards Vyvyan's room. Once he gets there, however, he realises he doesn't know what he's going to say at all. 

Vyvyan hears someone bounding up the stairs at a very fast pace. By the haphazardness of the steps, he can tell exactly who it is. Mike had told him he'd get Rick to come up, but he hadn't anticipated Rick actually coming up here.

Rick starts to panic slightly, knowing that Vyvyan will have heard him come upstairs and will wonder what's taking him so long.    
Taking a deep breath, he counts to three and walks into the room with as much confidence as he can muster. 

Rick makes himself look Vyvyan in the eyes and goes to sit next to him on the bed.

When Rick comes in, the boys make eye contact. As Rick sits next to him on the bed, he looks away. "What are you doing, spotty?" Vyvyan mumbles, playing with his studded cuffs.

"Mike told me to come talk to you." Rick shrugs, picking at his shirt sleeve. He looks up at Vyvyan again, chest tightening. "Vyvyan, -I think we need to talk..." he pauses, "about our...feelings." The sentence came out sort of weakly, but Rick just wants to get this out of the way.

Vyvyan scoffs when Rick tells him that Mike sent him and visibly tenses when he says they need to talk about their feelings.   
He sits back slightly, looking at Rick and scrunching up his face, "What feelings, you poofy? Get out." He leans back on his arm and bites his fingernails, acting as nonchalant as he can.

Rick's expression drops when Vyvyan tells him to leave. He stands up to face the punk, hands planted on his hips. "No Vyvyan! We need to be responsible adults about this, and have a sensible discussion!" He stumbles on his speech impediment a few times, but he emphasises his point with what he hopes is a stern glare.

Vyvyan squeezes his eyes shut and flops backwards on the bed, rubbing his temples. "But Rick, I don't want to talk about all this girly rubbish!"   
He sighs deeply, hoping Rick goes away so he can just be alone.

Frowning, Rick stomps over to Vyvyan to kick him in the shin, although it is quite gently. 

Vyvyan doesn't expect the kick, but doesn't give Rick a reaction. 

"Vyvyan, why not? You'll feel better afterwards, you know." The poet states, matter-of-factly.   
Rick kneels onto the bed next to Vyvyan and sits cross legged near to the punk’s head. He leans over Vyvyan, blocking out some of the light from the ceiling lamp.

When Vyvyan feels the bed dip near his head, he opens his eyes, his breath almost hitching when he sees Rick directly above him, a halo of light from the ceiling surrounding his head, making him look like some kind of deity. He feels his face go red and his stomach feels as if its tying itself in knots.   
He says nothing, just looking at the poet. Taking in his spotty face in all its glory.   
He may or may not have looked at Ricks lips while he was moistening his own. It was coincidental, obviously.   
"O-okay." He speaks, his voice barely even a whisper.


	6. Warm skin & Soft stares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems like baths seem to move the plot along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not updating frequently!! I hope you enjoy this comedy/fluff chapter

Rick is taken aback that Vyvyan himself has agreed to have a serious discussion. He is speechless for a few moments, he didn't expect to get this far. 

Rick's breathing speeds up as he looks down at Vyvyan, he gets slightly distracted just looking at him. He swears Vyvyan looks down at his lips, but it happened so quickly he can't be sure. He's going to have to say something soon, he's been simply staring at the punk for a little too long. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to summon some courage.

When Rick closes his eyes, Vyvyan immediately thinks about kissing him and it takes him aback. He's never thought of doing that before. His thoughts are interrupted by the poet speaking, he listens and takes in what he says.

"U-um Vyvyan...I-I think...I think I might...um...maybe I might sort of...like you?" He stutters out rather quietly. Hearing nothing but silence from Vyvyan, he opens his eyes gingerly to see how he will react.

Rick's eyes had opened and Vyvyan's face shows no emotion. He simply stares at him before saying, "Rick.. you've got a massive bogie." He points at Rick's nose.

Rick looks blankly at Vyvyan for a second before snorting with laughter. The stress of actually talking about feelings has made him somewhat light headed. He stops giggling after a moment and wipes his nose with his sleeve. "Gone?" He asks.

Vyvyan half-smiles and nods. Rick is such a nuisance, honestly. But he doesn't care.   
He rests an arm behind his head and uses the other to play with a pin Rick had attached onto his dungarees. It says 'I hate Thatcher' on it and it made him giggle a little.   
He realises that Rick had actually confessed to him, but he keeps fiddling with the pin, not really knowing if he should say anything.

Rick sighs and wonders if he should ask Vyvyan how he feels about him. He doesn't want to force him to say anything, that would probably only make him angry.    
He looks down to see Vyvyan playing with his 'I hate Thatcher' pin and smiles, he made that one himself. Rick pokes at Vyvyan's knuckles, not really knowing what to do with his hands. "I made that one myself, you know." He says proudly, puffing his chest out a little.

Vyvyan winces slightly at Rick poking at his bruised and grazed knuckles. His gaze shifts to Ricks face, "Oh yeah?" He says, a bigger smile forming on his face. "How'd you do that, then cleverclogs?" His hand isn't even moving anymore, he lets Rick feel his scabs and the roughness of his hand.

"I got a badge machine for my birthday! I found it quite simple really." Rick replies, grinning smugly at the punk.   
His pokes to Vyvyan's knuckles slowly get more gentle as their hands stop moving around so much. Rick strokes his thumb across the various wounds and bruises there, the rest of his hand gingerly moving round to hold Vyvyan's.

"Can you make me one?" He asks, looking away from Rick's face to look at their hands.   
Vyvyan mentally struggles when Rick angles his hand so he's gently holding it. His thought process halts.   
He lightly squeezes the soft hand in his.

Rick blushes slightly when Vyvyan squeezes his hand. "Make one for you? Hmm, Vyvyan, maybe I could, if you're really nice to me." He grins, enjoying the tiny amount of power he has over Vyvyan in this moment. "What would you want on it, Cliff Richard right?" He sniggers at his suggestion.

Vyvyan scrunches up his face and shakes his head. "Not that old git." He laughs.   
He leans up slightly, hoisting himself up on his elbow and rests the hand holding Rick's on Rick's knee, his arm was getting tired.   
"Maybe... maybe Johnny Rotten?" He suggests. "And I can't promise being nice to you." Considering this is the nicest, most peaceful time he and the poet have ever spent together.

Rick squirms slightly under Vyvyan's hand on his leg, he wasn't expecting it at all. He hums and nods at Vyvyan's suggestion, agreeing with the punk.   
"What do you mean, you can't be nice to me?" Rick responds, tilting his head to the side and squinting. "I'd say you're being pretty nice to me right now, wouldn't you?" He asks with a faint smile.

Vyvyan gives Rick a bit of a glare. "Yeah," He says, tilting his head back and relaxing his neck, looking up at the ceiling. "But you're still an irritating poof and I hate you." He sighs. He hates Rick, but he doesn't. It's difficult to explain what he's feeling to him.   
He has a bit of an idea to get his feelings across without too much fuss, he just hopes Rick doesn't get upset.   
He lifts his head up and looks at the poet's front dungaree pocket, where the poems lie.   
Lifting his hand off Rick's knee, he takes the book, sitting up completely.   
He opens it to the pages where the ones about him are, and tears them out.

Rick initially thinks that Vyvyan is going to rip his poems out to throw them away, which upsets him slightly. He isn't usually bothered when the punk destroys his things, but he did work quite hard on these poems.   
  
Placing the book back in Rick's dungarees pocket, Vyvyan folds up the pages he has and puts them in his left chest pocket of his denim vest. He shifts up on the bed, crossing his legs and mirroring Rick, their knees touching. He smiles slightly and plays with his studded cuffs.

When Vyvyan tucks them into his pocket, Rick is surprised at the gesture and ducks his head, blushing. He looks up almost sheepishly at the boy, and hesitating slightly, he gently places his hand over the pocket containing his poems - right above Vyvyan's heart.

Vyvyan glances down at Rick’s hand, and looks right back at him. His gaze shifts a lot, from various objects in the room, back to Rick. He's about to try and explain, so eye contact is a bit difficult for him. "I think,,, you should know, Rick. That uhhh. Well, I don’t know, really.." His eyebrows furrow and his expression changes to that of a defeated one. Placing his hand over Rick's awkwardly, he sighs, "You really make me feel a lot of things. I don't have the words to describe them, really." He removes Rick's had from his chest and interlocks their fingers, resting their hands between them. "It's all a bit girly, Rick." His face scrunches up as he usually does.

Rick smiles and happily takes Vyvyan's hand. He is slightly shocked, he didn't expect Vyvyan to actually have...feelings for him.    
"Yeah, it is a bit" Rick smiles in reply. "You call me girly all the time though, it isn't that different is it?" He shrugs.

Vyvyan shrugs too, not sure of what to say. He really didn't expect things to end up this way.   
As soon as he's about to speak, there's a huge commotion happening downstairs, lots of loud noises and shouting.   
He frowns and looks at Rick with a look which asks, 'What's going on?'   
His hand slips from Rick's as he gets up and opens his door and shouts, "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?" At that moment, the commotion downstairs stops, and they hear a voice shout back up, "OH HELLO VYVYAN, HOW'S IT GOING? YOU SKIPPER LITTLE METAL BOY, I’VE BROUGHT SOME COCA COLA TO SHARE, YES?"   
Vyvyan rolls his eyes. Its Jerzei Balowski, their landlord.

Rick gets up and sticks his head out of the door to investigate. "Ugh, what does he want now?" He rolls his eyes upon realising who it is.    
He looks at Vyvan. "How can we get him to leave? It took ages last time!" Rick groans.

Vyvyan ignores Rick, making his way downstairs. He greets Jerzei with a quick hello and flops onto the sofa.   
Mike puts his hands on his hips, "Vyv, Mr. Balowski says he wants thirty quid for smashing the toaster."   
Vyvyan rolls his eyes. "I SUPPOSE HES WANTS £20 FOR THE FLOORBOARDS, TOO?"    
Jerzei laughs and nods, "YES, VERY MUCH, LITTLE VYVYAN."

Rick follows Vyvyan down the stairs and stands in the doorway, nodding at Mr Balowski when he looks at the anarchist.    
He sighs internally, preparing for Mike and Vyvyan to somehow con (or do something that involves violence, in Vyvyan's case) their way out of this situation. Sure, it will be wonderfully entertaining, but he's always exhausted after any wacky adventure.

Mike rolls his eyes at Vyvyan and walks up to Jerzei, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Balowski, I'd like to make it aware that several 3ft tall men on bikes approached me asking for your cousin, Damage." He has doubts in his plan so he quickly turns and winks at Vyvyan who perks up, bolting to the window and leaping through it, smashed glass flying everywhere.    
Balowski turns to see the window, "THATS ANOTHER £40 YOUNG BASTERD!" He shouts, but then Mike intervenes.   
"They were asking for your cousin, Balowski. I told them i ain't heard of Damage and to keep the bananas."   
Jerzei folds his arms and looks quizzically at Mike, "Did they have tutus on?"   
"Yes, yellow ones." Mike answers quickly. "So let's forget about this for now, yeah? And we can pay you for all the stuff at a later date, yeah?"   
Balowski nods hurriedly and turns to leave as Vyvyan climbs back through the window with the leg off his car.   
"No, Vyvyan!" Mike yells as Balowski leaves the premises.   
Vyvyan groans, "But I've always wanted to kick someone up the arse with a corpse leg, Michael!"

Rick rolls his eyes at Vyvyan's absurd statement. "And why on earth would you want to do that Vyvyan? It sounds dreadfully pointless if you ask me!"    
He walks over to the sofa and sits down where Vyvyan was earlier, crossing his legs.

Vyvyan throws the leg at Rick, squelching and bouncing of his head. "Piss off, spotty!" He walks over to the kitchen, albeit stumbling as usual, opening the fridge and pulling out a brown bottle filled with (probably) larger.

Rick winces as the leg hits him, not out of pain but of nausea. He shudders slightly and flicks the various body fluids out of his messy hair.   
  
Vyvyan takes a seat beside Rick, not making any contact, and pops the cap off with one of his forehead studs.

Rick looks on, vaguely interested as Vyvyan opens a bottle using only his forehead. He wonders if that's why the stars are there, or if it's just a lucky coincidence. Either way, he's quite impressed.   
"What time is it Mike?" Rick asks the only person in the room who wears a watch. "Is it time for food yet? I'm hungry!" Rick's stomach seems to rumble in agreement.

Vyvyan downs the drink before Mike even processes what Rick says.   
"It’s time for supper, Neil!" Mike yells. Neil had been preparing supper since Mr Balowski turned up and serves the lentils to the rest of the boys.   
Vyvyan throws the bottle behind him, not looking. It smashes against Neil's head.    
"Alright, Vyvyan, there's no need, man." He says, sitting down.

Rick eagerly takes his seat at the table and spoons a generous portion onto his plate. He digs in, used to the gluey texture from eating only lentils for months on end. Neil's cooking may be the only thing they have, but he does only know the one recipe.   
Whilst eating, he looks up over Vyvyan and realises that they are both still covered in now dried lentils from their food fight earlier. He tries to remember who's turn it is to use the bath, but can't. He opts to ask the other boys where on the rota they currently are.

Still on the sofa, Vyvyan feels eyes on the back of his head from the table, but doesnt turn to look.   
He feels gross, covered in dry lentils. He's not sure his stomach can handle anything after it turned itself inside out after spending this moments with Rick earlier.   
Nobody knows whos turn it is to use the bath, Neil seems to have lost his Rota Notebook.

. Rick looks down at himself and scrunches up his nose in disgust. He doesn't care that much about hygiene, you wouldn't be able to, living in this house. However, the dried lentil mush is starting to get itchy and uncomfortable on his skin, so Rick thinks it's time for a wash.   
"Well, I'm going to go take a bath!" Rick announces to no response. He pauses for a second to glance around the room, then turns to go upstairs.

Vyvyan screams that he's after Rick, not wanting to be the one to have Neil's leftover bathwater.   
Mike announces that he’s after Vyvyan, and Neil moans about being last again.   
At that moment, although nobody notices, a small human with tusks carrying huge chunks of wood leaves through the front door, locking it behind them.   
Vyvyan looks over at Mike, "Was that the door?"   
Mike shrugs.

Rick goes upstairs and halts as he enters the bathroom, he looks around and realises the bathroom door is gone. Now that he thinks about it, he realises Vyvyan kicked it down a while ago, but he could have sworn it was there yesterday. Shrugging, he turns on the tap to fill the grimy bathtub.   
He has a thought and turns to yell down the stairs. "THE BATHROOM DOOR HAS VANISHED! SO NONE OF YOU BETTER COME UPSTAIRS UNLESS YOU WANT TO SEE MY NUDEY BOTTOM!" Satisfied that his announcement will keep his flatmates away, he starts to undress, folding his dungarees neatly.

Vyvyan hears Rick yell from upstairs and scrunches up his face in confusion, "OI RICK! WASN’T THE BATHROOM DOOR THERE YESTERDAY? IM SURE I REMEMBER SLAMMING IT?"   
Mike and Neil take no notice of what’s happening and get on with whatever they were doing.

"WELL YES VYVYAN, BUT I'M LOOKING AT IT RIGHT NOW AND IT ISN'T THERE!" Rick replies as he gets into the bathtub. He sighs and relaxes into the warm water, closing his eyes. It's not often he gets to have the bath first.

Vyvyan is baffled. He decides to check it out for himself and takes off up the stairs, marching  up the stairs and into the bathroom and looking around the doorframe. "WHERE THE BLOODY HELL HAS IT GONE?"

Rick jumps and opens his eyes and lets out a high pitched scream as he realises Vyvyan is in the bathroom with him. He looks over at the punk, who is still staring at the doorframe in confusion. "VYVYAN! Did you not listen when I said I was naked? What are you doing in the bathroom?"

Vyvyan looks over at Rick, having no reaction to the naked anarchist. "THE DOOR'S GONE!" He shouts, waving his arms in a confused manner.   
He continues looking at the frame and plays around with the hinges.

"YES, VYVYAN, I CAN SEE THAT!" Rick shouts back, crossing his arms over his chest and splashing some water out of the tub. "DO YOU NEED TO SEE IT SOME MORE JUST TO MAKE SURE? I'M TRYING TO HAVE A BATH HERE!" He flails his arms around, accidentally flicking some water at Vyvyan's face.

"YOU CAN BATHE WITH ME HERE, YOU KNOW. I’M NOT GONNA JUDGE YOU FOR HAVING A GIRLY BOTTOM, SPOTTY... OR A SPOTTY BOTTOM, GIRLY." He shrugs, wiping the water from his face. He walks over to the sink, using water from the tap to wash out the gel from his already disheveled mohawk.

Rick is stumped at this statement and flushes slightly. He watches Vyvyan wash his hair in the sink for a moment before deciding he may as well have the bloody bath. He begins to rub at the lentils stubbornly glued to his flesh.   
"What in Cliff’s name is in those lentils, I'm going to need a wire brush to get these off!" He exclaims more to himself than anyone else. His vigorous rubbing has only chipped of a tiny piece of the 'casserole', but has made his skin quite irritated.

"I know what you mean, it’s all in my hair!" Vyvyan pulls a rather large clump from his side spike and chucks it to the side. Standing upright, his hair dripping wet and slightly wavy in its natural form, frames his face nicely.   
He looks at Rick and watches him scrub his arms, "You’ve got lentil all down your back, by the way."

Rick looks up from his arms and is slightly taken aback by Vyvyan's unspiked hair. He doesn't think he's ever seen it in its natural state before. He realises he's been staring for quite some time and looks down at the water quickly.    
Rick tries to reach round to scrub at his back and whines when he can't reach properly. He sighs and goes back to attacking his arms, he guesses he'll just have to live his life with a lentilly back from now on.

Vyvyan is about to question the long stare Rick gave him, but decides not to and shakes his head so his hair dries, like a dog. He goes to grab the sponge and stands behind Rick in the bath, gently scrubbing the lentils off his spotty back.

Rick widens his eyes in shock when Vyvyan begins to carefully wash his back. He had no idea the punk was even capable of being this gentle.    
He hums as he begins to relax, the sensation of the warm water combined with the soft pressure on his back is a rather nice feeling. He shudders involuntarily when Vyvyan moves the sponge down his spine and giggles slightly, finding that area of his back to be rather ticklish.

Vyvyan chuckles lightly at Rick's ticklish reaction and removes the sponge, leaning over Rick to soak the sponge with water and squeezing it over the poet's head, water splashing everywhere, dousing the boy.

Rick splutters as he's doused in water unexpectedly. "What was that for?" He demands, looking round at Vyvan, who seems amused at his shocked state. He wipes the water out of his eyes and flicks it at Vyvyan, though it's hardly enough to make a difference to his already soaked form, the water from his hair seeping onto his shoulders through his shirt.

Vyvyan laughs and ruffles Rick's soggy hair, he leaps over the poet and jumps into the bath, splashing even more water everywhere. He doesn’t remove any clothing. At all.   
He grins at Rick, he’s actually having a lot of fun.

Rick laughs and half heartedly complains when Vyvyan enters the bathtub, fussing about his shoes and his filthy clothes. He doesn't really mean it though, he's secretly quite pleased that he's spending some time with Vyvyan away from the others.   
"What are you going to do now?" He asks, playfully splashing water at the punk. "You can't very well get clean with all your clothes on, can you?" Rick plucks at the shirt that's clinging to Vyvyan's chest.

Vyvyan shrugs, "I usually bathe in my clothes, that way my clothes get clean, too!" He thinks for a moment. "I could do with a good scrub though, my new tattoo needs a proper clean!"   
He takes off his jacket, flinging it somewhere in the room and pulls of his shirt, revealing a tattooed torso with light strawberry-blonde hairs across his chest.

Rick blushes furiously as Vyvyan removes his shirt, leaving his torso completely bare. He tries not to stare, but finds himself doing so anyway, examining all the tattoos he didn't even know Vyvyan had.

"Better?" Vyvyan asks jokingly, feeling warmth spread across his face. Rick looking at him was making him a little self conscious. He wasn't very skinny and had some pudge around his stomach. For the most part he didnt care what people thought of him, but for some reason he felt like he had to be more attractive just because he wants Rick to like him.

"Wow! I didn't know you had so many tattoos! Which one is your newest one?" Rick asks, a little over enthusiastically, he'd never actually seen any so close before.

Vyvyan smiles, liking the fact that Rick was interested in his tattoos. He points at one over his left pectoral which displayed a black switchblade with the words 'Patron Saint of Switchblade Fights'.   
"This is the newest one. It’s my favourite after the one that says ACAB." He says, looking at Rick's mesmerised face as he’s quite close to him.   
Vyvyan can see the shades of blue in Rick's eyes, lit up from the falling sun outside the window.

Rick smiles and nods along with Vyvyan's explanation, leaning a little closer to see them better. He almost reaches out to touch one, but stops, wondering if it would hurt.    
He instead reaches out and carefully removes the chain around Vyvyan's neck, placing it gently on the floor. "Don't want it to get rusty, do we now?" He explains.

Vyvyan listens to the chain as it falls to the wood. He can barely hear it, due to the thumping of his heart beating in his ears.   
"Yeah, that'd be daft." He says softly.   
Rick's so close to him.   
He suddenly remembers Rick is completely naked and tries very hard to keep his gaze above the water.   
He runs a band through his mohawkless hair and rubs his eyes. He's getting quite tired.

"We'd better get those lentils off you before the bath gets cold, Vyvyan." Rick suddenly remembers, twisting round to try and locate the sponge. He finds it floating behind him and drags it up over Vyvyan's arm, delicately moving it in small circles to erode the gluey lentils.   
Rick can't quite reach the top of Vyvyan's arms very well from where he's sitting, so he kneels up to get closer, almost slipping over as he rises.

Vyvyan is quite shocked at Rick washing him. When the poet moves closer, Vyvyan almost instinctively moves away, but remembers that he doesn’t have to, and stays where he is.   
He watches Rick's face as he washes him, concentrating on removing the hardened lentils, the poet’s hair falling over his face.   
Vyvyan lifts his arms and runs his fingers through Rick's damp hair, exposing his face and causing him to look up slightly at the punk.   
Vyvyan forgets to speak and just looks at the poet, his arms hooked over his neck.

Rick gasps and looks up at Vyvyan as he feels his hands in his hair. The hand that’s washing Vyvyan's shoulders slows down, until he simply drops the sponge with a splash into the lukewarm water below. He brings his other hand shakily up to Vyvyan's face, moving it to run through the punk's hair and gently stroke the metal stars on his forehead. Rick feels his breathing speed up as he looks into Vyvyan's eyes.

Vyvyan feels himself lean forward, mesmerised by the anarchist's gaze. He runs his fingers through the short hairs on the back of Rick's head, gently massaging. Glancing down at Rick’s lips, slick with water from the bath, Vyvyan's chest tightens. 

Rick hums softly as Vyvyan massages his scalp. He feels warm inside despite the bath having gone cold quite a while ago. His heart begins to beat rapidly when he notices Vyvyan looking down at his lips. Rick shivers with anticipation and nerves.

Vyvyan almost doesn't believe he's about to..kiss...Rick..

Suddenly Mike announces his presence by shouting, "THE REST OF THE HOUSEHOLD HAVE TO BATHE, TOO, YOU POOFS." Vyvyan jumps, looking over at Mike whos standing on the landing wearing bright yellow swimming trunks and holding a plastic spade.

Rick jumps about a mile in the air at the sound of Mike's booming voice flooding the bathroom. Rick snatches his arms from Vyvyan's shoulders and moves them to wrap around his own torso in a protective fashion. He looks around for a towel and grabs one off the side, holding it as to shield himself from Mike as he exits the tub. 

Vyvyan doesn’t move his arms from around Rick until Rick moves to leave.

Rick awkwardly avoids eye contact with everyone else in the room as he gathers his clothes and exits the room, headed straight for his bedroom.

Once Rick exits the room quite awkwardly, Vyvyan heavily stomps out of the bath, collecting his jacket and shirt.   
Mike pats him on his bare shoulder, apologising for interrupting. Vyvyan shrugs him off and grabs the clothes Rick had left in there.   
He makes his way to Rick's closed door, and knocks lightly.

Rick is sitting on his bed with his arms wrapped around his knees, still in his towel, when he hears a knock on the door. He stands up and is surprised when he opens it to find Vyvyan waiting outside. He moves to let him in and goes back to his previous position on the bed.    
He's not really sure how to feel about this whole situation. He was enjoying spending time with Vyvyan, but now the punk is standing in front of him, still shirtless and dripping wet, he doesn't know what to say. And, of course, he's rather embarrassed about being caught by Mike.

Vyvyan drops the clothes onto Rick's bed. "Mike apologised for barging in, by the way." He states, taking a seat beside Rick.    
He awkwardly removes the soggy cuffs around his wrists and almost cringes at the feeling of wet denim on his skin, he really should start undressing before baths.   
Vyvyan looks over at Rick, noticing his obviously embarrassed face.

Rick nods in understanding and watches Vyvyan struggle to remove his cuffs with amusement. He wonders absentmindedly if Vyvyan's going to remove his jeans to sleep, or simply wear them until they are dry.    
He looks up at the punk to see him looking right back at him. Rick smiles and looks away, picking at a loose thread on the towel. "That was nice." He says simply, ducking his head. "Plus, we smell a lot better now too." He remarks, grinning.

Vyvyan smiles too, "You're right, it was. The whole day was nice, really. Thank you." He says, not sure why he thanks Rick, but he felt the need to.

Rick smiles warmly when he hears that Vyvyan had a nice time too. He had been slightly worried that he was making the punk uncomfortable with all his closeness, so it's nice to know the feeling is mutual.    
  
Vyvyan announces that he’s going to bed and quickly wraps his arms around Rick from sideways, burying his face in the vast amount of puffy hair the poet has, and lets go as quickly as he latched on.   
He's out the door within the second.

Rick gasps quietly when Vyvyan wraps his arms around him. He freezes up in shock at first, but by the time he's realised what's happening and relaxed, Vyvyan has already left. The poet panics a little at this, hoping he didn't give off the wrong message. Still thinking, he gets up to turn off the light and gets into bed, not even noticing he's still damp and wearing only his towel, and falls asleep.

Vyvyan’s not sure if he’s ever hugged anyone before that.   
He puts the thought to the back of his mind and makes his way to his room, catching Mike paddling the spade in the bath rapidly.   
He flops down onto his bed, covering his head with the quilt and sticking his boot-covered feet out, resting them on the pillow at the other end of the bed.   
He closes his eyes and sleeps, dreaming of warm skin and soft stares.


	7. Cuddles & Time-travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The housemates find themselves in a bit of a time warp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quote long, but get ready for some FLUFF

When Vyvyan wakes up the next morning, he barely catches a glimpse of the man in a leotard recede into the closet as he pulls the duvet off himself.   
Sitting up, he rubs his eyes, picking the sleep from the corners and ruffles his fluffy hair.   
  
He doesn't bother to do his hair first thing in the morning and just stomps downstairs only in his jeans and and boots, exposing his tattoo-covered torso to the cryptids of the house filing themselves away.   
He waves goodbye to the old man who sleeps on their sofa as he pours himself some cornflakes and ketchup.   
  
He's never up this early two days in a row, he's managed to mess up his night owl sleep schedule.

Rick awakes to the sounds of Vyvyan crashing about downstairs. He smiles to himself, remembering the peaceful time they shared the previous evening.    
  
He sits up in bed and realises he forgot to put on clothes the previous evening, and simply fell asleep wearing only a towel. Rick get up and puts on a vest and pants of dubious cleanliness. He quickly goes to the bathroom and then goes downstairs, dodging several goblins on his way down.

Vyvyan hears movement from upstairs, wondering who's up as early as him. Checking the clock which Mike had meticulously written on so he could actually read it, he finds its 8:30am. He weighs up the pros and cons of skipping his lecture, because he really wants to.   
  
"MIND THE GOBS!" Vyvyan shouts at whoever is making their way downstairs, sick of cleaning up squashed goblins.   
He shovels in a spoonful of cornflakes, crunching loudly.

"TOO LATE" Rick yells from where he's lying in a heap on the ground. He didn't actually stand on any this time, but rather lost his balance whilst stepping over one and fell on the ground.   
  
He peels himself off the floor and winces, his chin took the brunt of the fall. Rick walks into the kitchen to see Vyvyan munching away at his cornflakes and sits down opposite him at the table. The anarchist rubs at his chin, gently prodding to guess whether it will bruise.

Vyvyan didn’t expect Rick to be the one to be up this early, concerned after hearing him fall, he looks up. He watches as the anarchist sits down, rubbing his rather red chin, figuring that he had banged it when he fell.   
  
His gaze lingers on the poet’s collarbones, realising that he didn't really look at Rick while he was in the bath, only focused on his presence.   
He admires his straight collarbones and rounded shoulders before looking down at his cereal.

Rick's stomach flips over as he notices Vyvyan's eyes lingering on his exposed collarbones. He tries his best not to blush as he studies the punk's admiring expression.    
  
"Breakfast, spotty?" Vyvyan asks, "There’s some cornflakes left."

"Okay!" Rick replies and reaches over to pour himself some cornflakes. he walks over to the fridge to see if there's any milk, but from the thick green layer of _something_ on top of the jug, he thinks it's probably better to just go without.

"What's got you up so early?" Vyvyan asks, finishing his cornflakes and hiking his leg up on the table, manspreading as he usually does.   
  
He picks some of the dirt from under his fingernails and inspects his healing tattoo, thinking he should put some of that healing balm he gets from his tattooist on it.

"Someone just happened to be walking down the stairs _very loudly_ , now I wonder who that was?" Rick sarcastically looks at Vyvyan, trying his best not to smile. He looks a little lower at the punk's bare torso and his eyes widen slightly. He knows he saw the same torso just yesterday in the bath, but apparently he'd forgotten just how much the view of various tattoos on pale flesh could make his chest tighten.   
  
Rick tears his eyes away before Vyvyan asks him why he's spending so long looking at his chest, and diverts his attention to a random patch of wall. The greying plaster is chipping away to reveal the brick wall underneath, and Rick wonders how exactly that chip was made. Probably Vyvyan, he reasons, eating another spoon of dry cornflakes.

Vyvyan pulls his tongue out at Rick. He's always loud, he doesn't bother going into it further though.   
From the corner of his eye, Vyvyan can see Rick looking at him. He continues eating his cornflakes as if nothing is happening, holding the bowl in one hand as his position doesn’t leave table space.   
  
"Up to much today, bumboil?" He asks when the poet looks away, pouring more ketchup onto the cereal.

Rick thinks for a second to check if he does have any plans for today. Unsurprisingly, he finds that he has none. "Nothing much, just another day as the voice of the people." He replies modestly. "What are you doing today then, Vyvyan?" He says, looking over at the punk, who looks like he shouldn't be comfortable in his current position.

Vyvyan huffs a chuckle at Rick calling himself the voice of the people.   
"I have a lecture but I don't think I'm gonna go to it." He says simply.   
He starts thinking about the poems Rick wrote about him, at first he starts feeling bad about his initial reaction, but then feels his face warm up as he remembers the lines.   
He suddenly sits up, slamming his boots to the wooden floor and stares wide-eyes at Rick, "BOLLOCKS!" He shouts, louder than he usually does.   
He leaps over the table, whizzing past Rick and legging it up the stairs, almost tripping on his way up.

Rick jumps at Vyvyan's sudden shout and leans back a little as the punk madly jumps past him and up the stairs. He’s confused as to what Vyvyan has forgotten, but waits patiently for him to come back downstairs, still eating his cornflakes. He can hear various noises from upstairs and is rather intrigued as to what Vyvyan is doing to cause the sounds.

Vyvyan bursts into the bathroom where he left his jacket, shirt, and chain after yesterday’s bath. He finds Neil doing the splits against the wall, he almost questions him but is too focused on the task at hand.   
  
He rummages in the breast pockets of his denim jacket, pulling out the poems of Rick's he had put in there.   
He's terrified of them being water-damaged. Rick was right, it was a stupid idea to get in the bath with his jacket on.   
  
He pulls out the crumbling paper and a feels a deep rage inside him.   
He gently folds them into a tiny rectangle and holds them tightly in his hand.   
Standing, he turns and rips the sink from the wall and throws it out the window.   
Neil gives him a concerned look but Vyvyan dismisses him with a fierce V.   
  
He starts hyperventilating, thoughts racing in his mind. What if Rick hates him for ruining them? Why was he such a prat in leaving his jacket on? Why did he forget they were there like the bastard he is?   
Unbeknownst to him, Vyvyan shows signs of a severe panic attack.   
He races down stairs, breaking a step on the way down.   
  
He's already spurting apologies as he enters the room, "Rick, I really didn't mean to! I'm to bollocking dumb! I DIDN’T MEAN TO, I SWEAR! I knew i should have believed my mum when she told me I had half a brain!" He says all this while pacing  back and forth from the sofa to Rick, hardly looking at him.   
Vyvyan realises that he didn’t actually say he's sorry.

Rick looks at Vyvyan in shock and confusion, he has no idea what the punk is yelling about, though he seems to be quite upset about something. The poet decides to try and calm him  down and get him to explain why he's so worked up. "Vyvyan, Vyvyan, slow down, breathe, for god's sake! Please tell me what's going on, I'm kind of worried, to be honest." Rick waves his arms around wildly as he says this, probably not helping his whole 'calm Vyvyan down' plan.

Vyvyan stops pacing and pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes, seeing colours from the pressure, the paper now between two fingers instead of in his hand. He's still breathing too quickly and and his chest hurts a lot.   
  
Removing his hands from his face, he looks to the ground, digging his fingernails into his palms. "Please don't hate me." He whispers, very quietly and in between sharp breaths.   
  
He's never felt like this in his life and he has no idea what to do. He wants Rick to do something and stop him from feeling this way, but he had no idea how.

Rick walks over to where Vyvyan is standing and notices a tiny folded up paper resting between his fingers. He gingerly reaches over and plucks the paper out, guessing this may have something to do with Vyvyan's panicked state.    
  
Rick opens the paper carefully, as it seems rather fragile, and also oddly damp. 

Vyvyan gingerly looks up at Rick when he takes the paper from him, his eyebrows furrowed in worry and his eyes glossier than usual. 

The poet realises why when he unfolds the sheet and sees the familiar smudge of his favourite biro, albeit far blurrier than usual. The anarchist now assumes that this is probably the reason why Vyvyan is so upset.    
  
Rick gently sets the paper down on the table and stands closer to Vyvyan than he normally would, but not too close as to crowd him. He feels his heart clench at Vyvyan's words, he's never heard the punk sound so afraid before, and it scares him. Rick clasps his hands in front of his chest and tries to think of something to say that will reassure Vyvyan, as he isn't angry at him at all. "Vyvyan, please don't worry, I don't hate you, okay? You're okay, you didn't do anything wrong!" Rick hopes that this will calm him down and that he didn't make him feel worse.

Vyvyan’s lips are turned downward in a frown but chest hurts a little less when Rick talks to him.    
He notices the anarchist is quite close to him, the punk looks into the boy's soft eyes and reaches up, pulling a feather from Rick's hair, probably from his pillow.   
  
"But I ruined them." He says weakly, gesturing to the table. "I was gonna keep them forever."   
His breathing starts slowing and he scrunches up his face, almost like he usually does, but with quite a heavy hint of guilt, "I really am sorry, Rick. Your poems are crap but I really did like those ones, I promise!"   
  
Vyvyan knows he's not only clumsy, but also purposefully violent and mean. But this time he doesn't want to come off that way, not right now. Not to Rick.

Rick smiles warmly up at Vyvyan and gently takes hold of his wrist, drawing circles on it with his thumb. 

Vyvyan watches Rick's thumb move on his wrist, it feels nice and tingly. It replicates how he feels inside when he looks into Rick's eyes.   
  
"It's okay, Vyv." The poet says softly. "I can rewrite them for you! I remember all the words and I can write them neater this time, in my best handwriting! Only if you'd like me to, of course." He looks down at where he's holding Vyvyan's arm and flushes slightly. He's still quite shocked that the punk cared that much for a silly poem he wrote, he's never really seen anyone enjoy his poems before.   
  
Vyvyan looks up at the use of his nickname, not knowing anyone else but Mike who uses it. He likes the way it sounds coming from the poet's lips, its almost annoying that he used it but smiles nonetheless.   
  
Vyvyan listens to Rick talk, still smiling. He watches his lips move, along with his eyebrows and follows his eyes with his own. Vyvyan finds the shade of blue mesmerising.   
His own eyes are blue but they don't hold as much depth as the anarchist's does.   
  
"I'd like that." He responds. "Yeah. Your good handwriting is really nice. You do that thing where you connect the letters prettily." He says, imitating cursive with his free arm.   
Vyvyan sways forward slightly before hesitating.   
He quickly decides he doesn't care anymore.   
  
Lifting his arms over Rick's shoulders, he pulls himself closer and buries his face in the crook of Rick's neck, their chests touching.   
Vyvyan holds him tightly, but careful of his oddly powerful strength. He feels the warmth of the poet's body on his skin and the almost overwhelming smell of Rick nearly makes him lightheaded.

Rick smiles at Vyvyan's compliment, he does work hard on his Good Handwriting. He's just imagining how he's going to write the poems out again when he suddenly finds himself in a tight embrace. The anarchist is briefly shocked, but then melts into the punk's arms, stomach flipping as he feels Vyvyan's muscles hold him in place.   
  
Vyvyan has never hugged anyone. He briefly hugged Rick last night but it wasn’t like this. This was different.

Rick slides one arm snugly around Vyvyan's waist, pulling him closer. He moves the other up and around into his hair, still soft and fluffy from the night before. He tilts his head slightly and nuzzles into it, breathing deeply. This is the calmest he's felt in a long time.

Feeling Rick soften into the hug and run his hand through his hair calmed Vyvyan completely. His episode has ended now he's hugging the spotty poet.   
He closes his eyes and enjoys the closeness, as he feels Rick's chest rise and all against his own. He holds him for a moment longer before lifting his head.   
  
He pulls away from the hug, but not much. His arms are still hooked over Rick's shoulders and Rick's hands rest at his waist.   
Vyvyan leans his studded forehead against Rick's gently, careful not to hurt him. With his eyes still closed, he feels Rick's breath against his face, tickling the faint hairs on his cheeks.

Rick flushes at Vyvyan being so close to him, the warmth from his face can probably be felt from a mile away. He studies the punk's face, eyes crossing a little as he tries to focus. Vyvyan looks so relaxed, so content that it makes his heart swell.    
  
Rick closes his eyes and simply listens to their out of sync breathing. Vyvyan's is slower now he's calmed down, steady and warm on his face. His own is quicker and more uneven, his heart beating faster at the mere thought of being so important as he seems to be to the punk.

Vyvyan feels their noses brush slightly and opens his eyes, watching the poet's flushed face. His hand finds ones of Rick's pigtails and he softly twirls it around his finger.   
  
"You're really pretty." He says, not meaning to say it aloud. He sees the poet's eyes fly open at his words.

Rick blushes deeply at the praise. The poet notices that Vyvyan, too, seems slightly shocked that he said the words and strokes his back gently in a tender gesture. 

Vyvyan curses to himself mentally and almost jumps out of his skin when he hears a voice.   
  
"We're all out of cornflakes!" Mike whines, slamming the empty cardboard box to the table.   
Vyvyan lifts his head from resting on Rick's and looks at Mike, reluctantly letting go of the anarchist.

Rick feels Vyvyan let go of him and shivers slightly at the cold now he's no longer being held.

Stomping over to Mike, Vyvyan yells "WELL, MIKE. IF NEIL HAD DONE THE SHOPPING WE WOULD HAVE SOME. WOULDN'T WE?" He shrugs harshly and turns, running up the stairs.

Rick watches as the punk runs wildly to the upstairs, trying his best not to stare at his tattooed torso moves out of his line of sight. He fails miserably at this and turns back to the kitchen to see Mike give him a knowing look. Rick rolls his eyes and walks on over to flop on the sofa, one leg propped up next to him.    
  
The punk gets to his room and decides to wear his The Damned shirt and receives his jacket from the bathroom, remembering to ask Rick to rewrite those poems.   
  
He runs into Neil as he leaves the bathroom, "OI HIPPIE!"    
Neil mights as well have pooped his pants at how high he jumped, clearly not seeing the punk. "DO THE SHOPPING, YOU NINNY!"   
He stomps back downstairs loudly, and realises Rick isn't going to let go of the fact he called the poet pretty.   
Hopefully he won’t say anything in front of the other housemates.

  
The poet looks round at the doorway again as he hears Vyvyan's loud footsteps coming down the stairs. He's slightly sad to see the punk is now wearing a shirt.

Vyvyan is followed by a quiet Neil who announces he’s going shopping. "Anyone got a fiver?" The hippie says as Vyvyan switches on the tv, sitting on the sofa with his back to Rick, leaning on him obnoxiously and dangling his legs over the side.   
  
"What about that fiver I gave you for food yesterday?" Mike points at Neil accusationally.    
"Oh yes! I forgot about that!" Neil says, pulling the paper from his sock, cornflakes falling out of his socks as he does.

Rick puts an arm around Vyvyan's shoulder to play with the heavy chain around his neck. He vaguely hears Neil leave the house, not really paying attention to where or why he is going.    
  
He glances towards the TV and tries to figure out what the show is about. He can't decide whether it's an advert for a sandwich or a new type of shoe. He turns to Vyvyan and asks his opinion.

Vyvyan folds his arms and squints at the TV. He can't see much without his glasses, but from what he can hear, they seem to be talking about some kind of animal. "Oh I know! It’s that stupid advert about giving parakeets for Christmas." He nods to himself. "Bloody useless! Before you and Neil moved in, we had a parakeet, you know!"   
  
Mike pipes up from the kitchen, "Yeah, until SPG shagged it to death, the horny bugger! That was my great uncle's bird!"   
Vyvyan laughs, parakeets don't live that long, anyone knows that.

Rick giggles at Mike's exclamation then turns back to face the television. He wonders how on earth Mike and Vyvyan ever kept a parakeet alive, they could barely manage for themselves.    
  
He focuses on the TV again and sees that they actually are advertising a sandwich now. Sure, it looks appetising now, but everyone knows all food on the telly is made of rubber and food colouring.

"Bugger, I should have told Neil to get some sandwich stuff." Vyvyan huffs, the advert making him hungry despite the cornflakes and ketchup he had just consumed.

The poet's stomach seems to rumble in agreement at both Vyvyan and the advert on the telly. He pats it absentmindedly in an almost comforting gesture.

Vyvyan glances at Rick's stomach after hearing it gurgle and smiles slightly as the poet pats it gently. 

Mike comes over and pushes Vyvyan's legs off the sofa, causing him to sit up.   
Mike sits on the opposite side of Vyvyan to Rick.   
Vyvyan manspreads to hell, as usual. Watching The Saturday Night Live Show come on.   
"'Ang on! It’s not night-time! OR SATURDAY!" He shouts at the TV.

Rick's brow creases in confusion at the program that is starting, glancing at the sun outside just to confirm it is in fact still daytime. He wonders if maybe they've travelled through time again, he hopes not as he had to wait a very long time for his dinner that day.

Vyvyan turns to Mike, who looks equally confused, "What's the time, Mike?" He asks as Mike checks his watch only to find he doesn’t have it on. "Oh." The short man murmurs, he never forgets to put it on. Grabbing Vyvyan's wrist, he finds that Vyvyan isn’t wearing his watch either.   
  
Vyvyan looks befuddledly at his own wrist. He then looks up to where the clock is on the wall. It’s not there.   
"What the bloody hell is going on?" He questions.

Rick begins to look around wildly, as if the reason for the sudden lack of time will reveal itself from the room. He hears an odd gurgling noise from the kitchen and turns around to look. He reluctantly removes his arm from around Vyvyan and kneels to look over the back of the sofa to see better.    
  
The gurgling noise seems to get louder as Rick realises it's coming from the fridge. It begins to wobble slightly and a sickly green glow is emitted from around the edge of the door.   
  
Rick leaps off the sofa at this and hides behind it, peeking over the top just a little. "Vyvyan, Vyvyan, go see what it is!" He urges the punk, flapping his hands around and hitting him in the leg a couple of times.

Vyvyan watches at Rick turns himself on the sofa, and lets his eyes follow the poet to behind the sofa. Only now hearing the noise just before Rick tells him to see what he is.   
"Oh alright, you sissy!"   
  
He looks over to the fridge, watching the green glow get stronger as it starts rocking. He stands and cautiously makes his way over to the appliance, grabbing a cricket bat on his way.   
He hears Mike shuffle to where Rick is hiding, copying him.   
  
Glancing back at Rick and Mike quickly, he poises the cricket bat with both hands. At that moment the fridge bursts open and a massive muddy green cloud emits from inside, along with a man who looks suspiciously like their landlord.   
  
Vyvyan instinctively swings the bat, whacking the man on his bald head and knocking him to the ground.   
"IT’S A MAN!"

Rick leans up over the sofa to try and see inside the fridge. He fails miserably and falls over, smacking his forehead on the wooden floorboards. The anarchist sits up and grumpily rubs his head, which is now turning a bright red.    
  
Rick looks round at the fridge and blinks in confusion at the man, who is now lying unconscious on the ground. He crawls over and prods the body cautiously, looking up at Vyvyan, who does look quite good from this angle, snarling and holding the cricket bat.

Vyvyan smirks after seeing Rick look up at him. He knows he's impressive.   
He looks at the body as Mike approaches, "Who d'you reckon he is, then?" The punk asks.   
  
Mike shrugs, "I didn't know anyone was in the fridge." He says blankly, actually quite surprised at the events which have just occured.   
Vyvyan kneels down beside the head of the man, turning the body's head with the bat gently, "He looks like he's part of the Balowski family!" Vyvyan says matter-of-factly.   
  
He checks the body for weapons and rolls up his right sleeve to find it laced with several watches. Two of them belong to Vyvyan and Mike.   
"THEY’RE OURS!" He takes off the watches, handing Mike's to Mike. The man also has the house clock around his neck like a ghetto piece of jewellery.

Rick grabs the clock around the man's neck and tries to wrestle it off him. It should be easy, seeing as the man is unconscious, but Rick gets the feeling that he's losing. He eventually gives up and chucks the clock back onto the man's chest.

Vyvyan watches as Rick struggles for the house clock, smiling to himself.

Mike then bends down to grab it and swiftly pulls it off in one go.   
"Must have loosened it for you, eh Mike?" Rick remarks, laughing unconvincingly. He looks up and sees Vyvyan, who seems to be amused at Rick's struggle for the clock.

He and Mike laugh in unison, "Sure, Rich." Vyvyan smirks, liking how the little nickname sounded. 

"Oh, shut up Vyvyan!" Rick retorts, although he can't stop himself grinning at the nickname Vyvyan gave him. He rather likes it. 

The punk grabs the man by the collar and dragging him over to the back of the sofa, propping him against the red fabric.

Rick stands up and follows when Vyvyan drags the body over to the sofa, resuming his earlier position kneeling on it facing the kitchen. This time, however, he looks down at the man to see what far fetched explanation he will have for stealing their watches and somehow tampering with their television.

Kneeling beside him and slapping his face to rouse him he says, "Oi! What were you doin' in our fridge?"   
The man stirrs and mumbles something about time.   
"Yea! We know you stole our watches, THIEF!"

Vyvyan has to slap him a few more times until he wakes up completely, looking shocked at the punk kneeling in front of him holding a cricket bat.   
"Er,, I din' do nufin! I swear!" The man yells, wearily glancing around the room.   
  
Vyvyan squints at him.

"You had our watches. Our clock. And you just fell out of our fridge!" Mike shouts, quite hysterically, pacing up and down the room.

The man hastily stands, followed by Vyvyan. "Oh yes! Tha's right! I've come to reset the time continuum. It’s buggered!"

Crossing his arms, Vyvyan shifts his weight so he’s standing with his hips cocked to the side a bit. "What have you done to the time? The TV is playing SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE! IT’S NOT SATURDAY. OR NIGHT!!"

Rick nods in agreement at Vyvyan and Mike's shouting, he put on his Serious Intimidating face, but he's not sure the man notices he's there.   
  
The man blunders, mumbling about the fridge and some hippie.

Rick hears the man mention a hippie and wonders if he met Neil at some point, he has been quite a while, after all. He starts to ask the man about it, but he's already walked towards the door, evidently attempting to leave before Vyvyan hits him with the cricket bat again.

"HIPPIE? WHAT HIPPIE?" Vyvyan yells after hitting the man with the bat.   
"A tall one! Greasy as all hell!" The fridge man says, rubbing his arm where Vyvyan had hit him.   
  
"I know the one!" Mike walks over. "Smells like depression and lentils?" He says. The man nods vigorously.   
"What business did you have with him then? Snakes all around? Hat in the gutter? What?" He inquires, leaning against the wall    
  
The man tells them he ran into Neil as he was travelling through the veil of time and instead of him going through time, Neil did. And for some reason, the man ended up in their fridge with their watches.

Rick scoffs at this explanation and rolls his eyes. "A likely story! You probably work for Thatcher don't you, you fASCIST!" He points at the man's face and laughs, looking round at his flatmates for approval.    
  
He suddenly gets a thought "Where's Neil then?" He says, looking around as if the hippie will abruptly reveal himself from the cabinets.

The man puts on a panicked look and shrugs worriedly. "He could be anywhere!"   
  
Vyvyan sighs, "WELL WHO THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING TO MAKE ME- I MEAN _US_ FOOD?" He waves his hands frantically.   
  
Mike puts his hands on his hips, wondering. "Neil....Neil.....where would Neil go??? The compost?"

Rick furrows his brow in thought as he tries to concentrate on where Neil could be. He has no clue, but tries anyway just in case.    
  
He's still thinking when a loud rumble and then a popping sound is heard from upstairs. This is followed by some wailing that sounds almost human. Everyone is looking up at the ceiling at this point except the man, who is slowly edging away again.    
  
Neil suddenly crashes through the ceiling, followed by a small pile of what look like overripe tomatoes and a single slice of bread. "Oh, heavy!" Neil exclaims, looking down at his tomato covered self. "I'm going to have to take a bath again!" He looks disappointedly at a random point in the distance.

Vyvyan bolts for the bread, scoffing it in his mouth.   
" _Vyvyan!_ We said to share any bread we find!" Mike pipes up. Vyvyan gives him the V and steps aside.

Rick sniggers under his breath as Vyvyan immediately eats the bread, it happens so fast he barely sees it. 

Vyvyan suddenly turns to Neil, "Where the bloody hell have you been, you mad hippie?" He says, his mouth full.   
  
Meanwhile Mike has grabbed the time-traveller by the shoulder and brought him back over.   
  
Neil looks at Vyvyan, looking confused as to how exactly the punk has fit all that bread in his mouth and is still able to talk. "I'm not that sure, Vyvyan." He answers, frowning. "I was in a place that was really trippy for a while, it made me quite nauseous actually. Then I was in tomato garden, and I thought I'd bring some back, add them to the lentil casserole, you know? They seem to have gone a bit soft on the way back though." He looks down at the mushy tomatoes on the floor, then walks around to gather them up, throwing them into a pot on the stove. "No idea where the bread came from." Neil says mostly to himself.

Vyvyan nods, wanting to visit this trippy place.   
Mike looks very confused, "So, what exactly happened?" He asks the man, to which the man shrugs.   
  
"You've got your hippie back, let me go!" He bolts to the fridge, escaping Mike's grasp. He jumps in and closes the door.   
  
"WHAT ABOUT THE TIME WARP?" Vyvyan shouts, mouth now empty and waving his arms angrily. He wants to watch the telly.   
  
The fridge door opens momentarily, the man sticks his head out, "ITS FIXED, YOU NINNY!"   
  
"ALRIGHT, NO NEED FOR NAME-CALLING YOU BALD EGG!" Vyvyan flips the V, getting excited to watch the tv.   
He grabs Rick by the hand and hauls them both over the back of the sofa, landing on the couches with a flop. "LOOK, AFTERNOON PLUS IS ON!" He grins and crosses his legs on the sofa, not letting go of Rick's hand.

Rick giggles slightly and squeezes Vyvyan's hand, despite him maybe having his arm ripped out of the socket. He shifts it around a little and winces as it aches.    
  
The poet smiles when he sees that Vyvyan doesn't let go of his hand now they've sat down, he’s happy that the punk feels comfortable enough to do that in front of their other housemates. Rick shuffles a little closer to Vyvyan and gently leans his head on his shoulder, trying to avoid the multiple spikes embedded into the denim.

Vyvyan smiles to himself when Rick lays him head on his shoulder. He decides to go a step further, letting go of Rick's hand and sliding it around the poet's back, holding his waist lightly, bringing them closer.

Mike and Neil join the TV session and get nothing but a side glance from the two, Neil looking a bit more confused than Mike.   
The TV blares loudly as Peter Richardson hosts the show with enthusiasm.

Rick's heart leaps as Vyvyan shifts his arm so it's around his waist, the poet hums softly and leans in closer. His stomach flutters anxiously at Mike and Neil's confused look, but they don't say anything and he relaxes, nuzzling a little more into Vyvyan's shoulder. He hisses when he scrapes his cheek on a spike but stays with his head there, still comfortable.

Neil moans that the rickety chair is hurting his back. Vyvyan begins getting agitated because the hippie is interrupting his show.   
  
He huffs, "JUST SIT ON THE BLOOMIN SOFA, NEIL!" He's careful not to shout into Rick's ear.   
Neil scowls, "Well how am I going to do that, Vyvyan? There’s no room on the sofa!"

Mike and Rick are also confused when Vyvyan makes the suggestion to Neil.   
  
Vyvyan mumbles about knowing that already and wraps his other arm around Rick, pulling him onto his lap, his legs still crossed and Rick slides into the gap his legs make.   
Not letting go of Rick's waist, he shifts upwards so he can still see the telly.    
"HOWS'AT YOU SMELLY STRING BEAN?"   
  
Neil says nothing and takes the vacant seat. Vyvyan rests his chin on Rick's shoulder, breathing lightly as not to tickle his neck.

Rick’s eyes then go wide as he's pulled sideways into the punk's lap. He initially stiffens in shock but quickly relaxes into Vyvyan's warm embrace.    
  
He shifts forward a little as he can feel Vyvyan's belt digging into him. The anarchist leans the side of his face against the other man's briefly, almost as a sort of hug. Comfortable, he sighs happily and focuses his attention on the television.

They watch the television comfortably until the sun sets and the white dot appears on the screen.   
  
Mike had excused himself to go to bed while Neil takes a bath to rid himself of the tomato-y stench.   
  
Vyvyan's legs had gone numb long ago, but had fallen asleep regardless, his head resting on Rick’s shoulder blade as he hugs the poet from behind. His light snores echo through the silent room.

Rick is rather sleepy as well, but he knows they would both be rather sore in the morning if they were to sleep on the sofa again, especially in the position they're currently in. He sighs and enjoys the feeling of being held for one last moment, then moves to untangle himself from Vyvyan's arms.   
  
The poet is careful not to let Vyvyan fall onto the floor as he stands up, he doesn't think the floorboards could take the pointy stars attached to the punk's forehead smashing into them. He grins when he turns back around and sees the man sleeping, his mouth is open and there's a little drool coming out of the corner. He looks beautiful, Rick thinks, and blushes at this thought, knowing Vyv would playfully tease him for it if he was awake.    
  
Rick moves forward again and hooks his arms under Vyvyan's, pulling him up onto his feet. The punk grumbles and thankfully cooperates very sleepily as Rick guides him up the stairs to his room. He removes Vyvyan's denim vest and folds it neatly, he considers removing his boots, but with the amount of grime caked into the laces it might not even be possible.    
  
Rick helps him to lie down and tucks him in before stepping back, intending to go to his own bedroom. However, as he looks back at the peaceful punk, he finds himself wanting to crawl into the bed with him. He contemplates for a while in the doorway, worrying about various ways it could all go terribly wrong.    
  
Mike passes him halfway through this, simply giving him an odd look while clutching an oversized rubber duck. Oh, what the bloody hell, Rick figures, it's not like they haven't slept with each other before, he thinks, immediately blushing at the other interpretation of these words. He quietly removes his jacket and shoes and peels back the duvet to lie down gingerly next to Vyvyan.

Vyvyan lies still as he listens to Rick's footsteps. He hears him head for the door, but stopping. As he wonders what the poet is doing, he hears him take off his jacket and shoes, heading back over to the bed.   
Vyvyan feels his face heat up immensely at the thought of Rick voluntarily spending the night with him.   
  
Feeling the duvet being lifted off and the bed dip beside him, he pulls the duvet back on them and turning to lie on his side, wrapping an arm around Rick's waist, holding him close. He pulls Rick so they're facing each other and pushes his knee between Rick's thighs, tangling their legs.   
  
He opens his eyes and finds Rick staring right back at him.   
Smiling in the dim light, he can barely see the blue of the poet's eyes in the darkness. Their breath mingles as they're so close.

Rick is surprised to see Vyvyan looking back at him, he thought the other man was fast asleep. He smiles back at him, even though he can hardly see in the darkness of Vyvyan's room. He can feel the punk's breath on his face and senses the hairs on his neck standing up at the sensation.    
  
Rick swallows and moves the tiniest bit closer to Vyvyan so their foreheads and the tips of their noses brush slightly. He can feel the cool metal scraping his forehead but leans in, closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath. Rick smiles and nuzzles his nose back and forth slightly, he feels so warm and comfortable.

Vyvyan almost forgets to breathe as Rick moves closer, the anarchist closing his eyes. He thinks about how pretty the poet before him is, bringing his hand from his waist to brush his thumb over Rick's spotty jaw. Not caring about the zits, he rests his hand on his cheek, continuing to brush his thumb lightly over his cheekbone.   
  
Thoughts rush through Vyvyan's mind, the only consistent thought is pushing him to kiss Rick. And god, he wants to.   
He's surprised he had gone from hating the boy to caring a lot about him in such a short span of time, he thinks about all their fights and how much he despised the spotty nobody.   
  
He swallows thickly, leaning closer and closing his own eyes.   
He feels his lips come into contact with Rick's lightly, tickling the sensitive skin.   
  
He waits a second before pressing a little closer, kissing him properly.   
Vyvyan's heart races faster than ever, it feels as if its about to burst from his chest, warmth spreading all over him.

Rick nearly stops breathing when Vyvyan moves and closes the gap between them. He gasps into the punk's mouth then sighs gently as he relaxes into the kiss, his hand moving up to tangle in the bright orange hair. 

Vyvyan smiles into the kiss when he feels Rick relax and push closer, feeling the hairs ruffle on his head, not used to not having it gelled.   
  
Rick can barely believe that this is happening, he has, admittedly, been thinking about this particular event for a while, maybe even for some time before things started getting all strange. He tried to rationalise those thoughts to himself back then, usually by trying his very best to lock them away and not think about them ever, but this is honestly so much better. He can feel Vyvyan's heart hammering in tandem with his own where their chests are pressed together under the blanket and presses closer, wrapping his leg more tightly around the punk's strong thigh.

Daring to push further, Vyvyan parts his lips slightly to deepen the kiss, unsure about using his tongue just yet.   
The hand resting on Rick's cheek slowly moves down against his neck, sliding down his chest and over his stomach before reaching for the hem of his shirt and resting his probably cold hand on his hip, pressing lightly at the small amount of fat that rests there.

Rick shivers under Vyvyan's touch and he can feel himself start to blush as his heart beats even faster. He worries for a second before realising it's probably not that visible in the dark.    
  
They stop kissing to breathe for a second and Rick looks up into Vyvyan's eyes. The punk's gaze is so intense that he has to look away after a second, choosing to instead bury his head into Vyvyan's shoulder. Breathing heavily, he continues to run his hand through the normally spiked up hair, which at the moment is softer and almost fluffy.

Vyvyan smiles when Rick buries his head in his shoulder, understanding that that was probably the poet's first kiss. Despite him saying he’s had loads of birds, Vyvyan really doubts it.   
  
He nuzzles into Rick’s shoulder, the two now cuddling, their hammering chests touching. He kisses Rick's shoulder chastely, closing his eyes and drifting to sleep, the scent of Rick fills his nose as he breathes deeply.   
  
He almost worries about his feelings, but comes to terms with the fact he can no longer deny them.

Rick blushes as Vyvyan softly kisses his shoulder in what he'd consider a fond gesture. He shifts a little further down the bed and moves his arm down to gently circle over the punk's back. He listens as Vyvyan's breathing evens out and he falls asleep.   
  
Rick finds himself unable to sleep at the moment, mostly due to the cocktail of emotions he can feel in his stomach. He may attempt to deny it if asked, but that was actually his first proper kiss. He'd just kissed someone! Rick found himself grinning widely as he looked up at the spotty ginger bastard sleeping next to him. He couldn't think of anyone he'd rather kiss more.


End file.
